


over and over

by Ceta



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ABO dynamics, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, M/M, Omega!Yuuri, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phichit is the Best Friend, Scenting, There are hugs, Victor is a dork, Yuuri and Victor meet earlier, Yuuri's a bit anxious, alpha!Victor, many hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9084628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceta/pseuds/Ceta
Summary: Hours later - Victor belatedly remembered that there was such a thing as time zones when he woke up to his phone vibrating by his ear - Yuuri sent back Hello（〃・ω・〃）   Victor read the text, stared, then buried his face into one of the couch pillows for all of four seconds before he fumbled with his phone and texted back. Or; Victor meets Yuuri in a bathroom. They hit it off from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really love ABO AU but I've never tried to write one before! This also doubles as my first fic here, how cool is that? :D  
> 

The first time Victor met Katsuki Yuuri was, unsurprisingly, at a competition.

 

Victor had just finished his short program and excused himself from the reporters with a half-baked lie and beaming smile. His outfit stuck to his skin with sweat, and all of a sudden it was unbearable, walking in skates and feeling as though sandpaper was being dragged against his skin with each brush of fabric. He was tired, but he refused to show it right now where anyone could see. He needed to find somewhere quiet where he could just stop and breathe.

 

After passing up several shadowed corners and inconspicuous closets, Victor decided to tuck himself away in the farthest bathroom he could find. He'd wash his face first because sweat was still beading on his brow and slowly rolling down the side of his face, then he'd lock himself in the stall for a few, precious moments and let his smile drop, rest his aching feet and remember what it was like to feel like he was flying whenever he stepped onto the ice instead of pushing against the chains that tried to shackle him to its surface. Victor loved skating, lived it, breathed it, every waking moment, but he was _tired_. He just wanted to rest.

 

When Victor pushed open the bathroom door - far, far away from the rink and its skaters and their coaches - he was assaulted by the heavy stink of lust and anxiety. He coughed and pulled the collar of his jacket up to cover his nose, but after a moment of cursing his luck and the alpha _idiot_ who thought cornering someone _during a competition_ was a good idea, Victor carefully walked in. As unexpected as this was, and no matter how bone-weary Victor felt, he wasn't someone who'd just walk away from this sort of thing. He could clearly smell the undertone of fear in the air, muted but enough for Victor to know that whoever was in there was asking for help.

 

"It's fine if you won't talk." Victor slid up to the corner, pressing against the tiled walls and peeking around it. There were only two people as far as he could see - a blessing in itself; Victor knew going up multiple alphas would prove difficult enough to wear him out unpleasantly, which was something he'd rather avoid given the competition. Going by their clothes, he guessed that the alpha was probably a stadium worker, maybe a coach, and the other a skater. "I'll make sure you'll be screaming nothing but my name tonight."

 

The alpha gripped the skater's chin - omega, beta, Victor didn't know; he couldn't smell anything passed the reek of fear blanketing his scent, but he assumed omega, given the alpha's actions - and tilted his head to press his face into his neck. In that moment, Victor locked eyes with him, saw how warm brown eyes widened and shined with something that might've been hope but most likely relieved tears, and felt his chest twist painfully tight. He pressed a finger to his lips.

 

_Quiet._

 

Slowly making his way around the corner and closer, the skater's eyes locked onto his approaching figure up until he tensed and shuddered when the alpha pressed closer, Victor took a moment to wonder why he hadn't called out for help, had stayed reluctantly silent for the most part instead of causing a scene to get someone's attention, but decided he'd ask later. Instead, he tapped into the neglected pit of red-hot rage boiling in his gut, felt it rise like a freed demon and let his scent flood the room, overpowering and suffocating, so that anyone within several meters would catch a faint ghost of it and _cower_.

 

The alpha froze, spine locking for a split-second before he threw himself out of the way as if dodging a bullet. Victor smiled down at him, watched as the man's instincts warred with his inflated pride, and relished in how his instincts won in the end, making him press into the bathroom wall.

 

"I think you're just about done here, right?" Victor said with a pleasant smile, kneeling down until he was eye-level with the alpha. Said alpha snapped his gaze to the floor and, after a grueling minute of trying to get his jaw to work around his words, gave up and nodded. "Great! If you don't get out of here by the time I get to zero, I'll call security, okay? Good." His smile turned sinister. " _Zero-_ "

 

The alpha was gone, door slamming shut in his rush, and Victor heaved a sigh, reeling in his scent. He pulled out his phone and dialed Yakov's number, greeting his coach - and effectively cutting off any lecture that was building up in him - with a cheery, "Yakov! I'm glad you picked up. See, there's an alpha running around with his tail between his legs by the name of Jonathan, and- no, I couldn't quite see his last name on the name tag, sorry! - but tell security to go find him. He was harassing one of the other skaters. Thanks, Yakov, you're the best!"

 

He ended the call before Yakov could even squeeze a breath in and slumped forwards, running a hand through his hair. He sniffed the air and winced at how strong his scent was. It's been a while since he'd done something like that; his scent would probably stick here for hours even with scent-canceling products and no one would probably be able to even come within a fifteen meter radius without wanting to turn tail and run. He'd have to apologize to the staff later for the trouble - maybe tomorrow, after the competition was over.

 

"V-Victor?" A hesitant voice called, quiet, as if he didn't want to interrupt Victor's thoughts. Victor stood and dusted off his pants, turning to look at the other man leaning against the wall. He looked exhausted despite the weak smile on his lips as he pulled the collar of his jacket up to cover his scent glands - one of which was wet with what was most likely saliva; the alpha was probably mouthing at it, given that his scent lingered on the skater's skin, though it was good that he hadn't bit it - and bowed his head. "Thank you, Victor, for helping me. I- I appreciate it."

 

Frowning at the way the other man still seemed shaken, more noticeable in the way his scent still hadn't evened out yet than his words or actions, Victor stepped closer, though still a respectful distance away, with a murmured, "Excuse me," and gently pressed a hand to his covered neck, keeping it still there. "Would you like me to wash it off?" Victor asked. The other alpha's scent would probably be an unpleasant reminder of what happened, and though it wasn't as strong as it could be thanks to Victor's own, it was enough for him to smell it and clench his teeth a bit too hard. He didn't want to think about what it was probably doing to the other man. "I don't think I can do much with soap and paper towels, but at least most of the scent will wash off."

 

Surprised, brown eyes blinked up at him before darting away. He nodded. "If it isn't too much trouble."

 

Victor pulled his lips into a reassuring smile and grabbed a few paper towels, lathering one with soap before adding some water onto it while keeping the others dry, before making his way to the- omega, definitely omega, given his scent, now much clearer than before. It wouldn't be the best way to wash away the offending scent, but at least it would dampen it down to something insignificant. After quietly asking for permission to pull down the collar of his jacket, just enough to expose his scent gland, Victor set about washing away stubborn saliva without making too much of a mess. It was silent throughout, the other skater having shut his eyes as Victor worked, but comfortable even with Victor's scent strong enough to suffocate.

 

(Briefly, he wondered how the other skater could even breathe with an alpha's scent so thick in the air.)

 

"There," Victor said, balling the paper towels in his hands as he stepped back with a pleased smile. The other skater opened his eyes and pulled the collar of his jacket back up. Victor could still smell faint vestiges of the other alpha's scent clinging to the skater's skin, but it was minutiae and would easily be removed with a simple shower. He tossed the paper towels into the trash bin and put a hand on his hip. "You should go and find your coach. I'm sure he's worried."

 

The skater seemed to curl into himself at that, expression somewhat guilty. "He probably is - Phichit, too."

 

Victor didn't know who that was, so he didn't comment on it. Instead he continued, saying, "You should be more careful next time, too. What were you doing out here when there's a bathroom closer to the rink?"

 

He hunched his shoulders, looking away. "I was... worried. About my short program. I didn't know if I would be able to place with my free skate, so I- I panicked. I didn't want anyone to see me."

 

Oh. Victor didn't know what to say to that. He rarely felt anxious during competitions thanks to his somewhat simple-minded way of thinking about it. Didn't get a good score? Train harder, practice more. Didn't perfectly execute a jump? Train harder, practice more. Got a gold medal? Train harder, keep practicing, there'll be better opponents next time. Still, he felt obligated to say something since he was the one to bring it up, so he pursed his lips for a second, thinking. "Whether or not you make it doesn't matter. If you don't make it, keep practicing. If you make it, keep practicing."

 

The other skater made a face. Victor wanted to laugh; he knew he wasn't good at pep talks, and the other man certainly thought so too.

 

"Keep practicing," he said again, and he was glad that the other man had looked up at him then. Victor smiled at him, eyes flashing. "I'll be waiting for you on the podium."

 

(After their free skates - Victor watched each of them, this time, even though he usually slept through all of his competitors' performances - Victor stepped onto the podium alongside Chris and a skater from France to accept their medals. Though the other skater's - _Yuuri_ , he learned, _Katsuki Yuuri_  - free skate wasn't terrible, there were technical flaws that dragged his score down from what could have been, if it had been a perfect performance, a solid second place to fourth.

 

As he smiled for the camera, letting the world around him be swallowed by the white of the camera flashes, Victor wondered when he and Yuuri would be able to stand on the same ice.)

 

(He'd skate for forever if need be, but Victor knew that he wouldn't have to.

 

Yuuri would grow and improve, and one day he would fight against Victor for gold.) 

  


* * *

 

He made sure to find Yuuri after the competition was over and everyone was filing out. He seemed embarrassed talking to Victor, especially with his coach grinning behind him and his friend(?) snapping pictures of them from different angles as Victor asked to exchange numbers, but when they parted ways it was with a small smile and a _See you later, Victor_. Entranced for reasons he couldn't define, Victor stared after Yuuri as he left, long enough to catch his ears flushing red when his friend leaned in close and whispered something to him. Victor wondered what he had said to get Yuuri so flustered, but his thoughts were interrupted by Yakov's appearance as he dived straight into one of his infamous lectures.

 

When he settled down in his apartment, half-asleep after the long flight back home, he sprawled on the couch with one leg hanging over the armrest and pulled out his phone to text Yuuri a simple _Hi!_  


Hours later - Victor belatedly remembered that there was such a thing as time zones when he woke up to his phone vibrating by his ear - Yuuri sent back _Hello（〃・ω・〃）_  


Victor read the text, stared, then buried his face into one of the couch pillows for all of four seconds before he fumbled with his phone and texted back.

 

_( ´ ♡ ` )_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!

_It looks like we won't be seeing each other until the GPF_

_GPF?!_

_Yeah! Can't wait to see you there_

  
_You're going to be there, right?_   _( ° ♡ ° )_  


_Yuuri?_

_._

_._

_._

  
_I'll see you there..._ _(╥﹏╥)_  


_( ^ ♡ ^ )_

* * *

Victor chuckled as he sent Yuuri varying degrees of encouraging texts sprinkled with different emoticons. At the moment, he was sitting out as Yakov instructed the other skaters, having weaseled his way out of practicing in favor of messaging Yuuri. It wouldn't be good to make this a habit, but Victor knew better than to make it one; his self-control was leaps and bounds ahead of what was expected of his age and flighty personality, so he'd make sure to discipline himself in regards to practice time and Yuuri - just not now. He needed to convince Yuuri that he could still make it to the Grand Prix Finals.

 

"Who're you texting?"

 

Victor blinked and looked up to see Mila, one of the skaters Yakov personally coached. She was a young girl, still unpresented though it was bound to happen sometime soon, and one of the few children Victor took the time to get along with. Usually, their interactions consisted of Mila either complimenting his skating or asking for pointers when Yakov's back was turned and Victor happily indulging her, but occasionally she'd spend her breaks eating with him while talking about anything she could think of.

 

He briefly glanced back down at his phone when it vibrated, Yuuri's _I still need to practice my 4T before I can think about going to the GPF_  popping into existence, but Victor locked his phone and put it aside. Smiling at Mila, who looked between him and his phone with her brows drawn together, he said, "Just a friend of mine. Do you need help with something, Mila?"

 

"Coach Yakov told me to tell you that he'll make you stay back two hours later if you don't come back to practice," she said, enunciating Yakov's order with care. She stood on her toes and waved Victor down, and he obliged. She whispered into his ear, "I think he's just angry that Madam Lilia broke up with him."

 

Victor stifled his laughter. "Maybe," he whispered back, ruffling her hair. There was little anyone could do about alpha-alpha pairs, which tended to blow up rather spectacularly or dissolve due to the clash of dominant personalities, but sometimes they worked well in the end; it depended on how willing both parties were in making things work out despite the odds. _Like any other relationship_ , Victor thought, recalling the way Yakov and Lilia would sometimes simmer in silence around each other and how they'd end up talking for hours afterwards until they apologized. 

 

This time around, though, it looked like there would have to be more than conversations through the night to mend the cracks in their broken relationship.

 

"Come on," Victor said, ushering Mila along when Yakov yelled something or another at him from across the rink. Victor didn't quite make out what he was saying, what with the other coaches and skaters and children on the rink, but the wisps of his less than happy scent that Victor managed to catch from here told him that he shouldn't press Yakov's buttons for any longer. "Afterwards, we can try to think of a plan to get them back together. Maybe he'll give us both a break then."

 

"Really?" Mila asked with a grin.

 

Victor laughed, stepping onto the rink. "I hope so."

 

Victor ended up staying hours later than usual - two because of Yakov, who had _hovered_ on the other side of the barrier with eyes of a hawk, staring Victor down until he had felt like he'd collapse from exhaustion as he went over both of his routines dozens of times, tweaking it however he saw fit; and some hours after that because Victor didn't feel like leaving the ice just yet even after being put through Yakov's hell of a punishment. He skated slow, lazy circles around the rink, watching as everyone left one by one, until he and Yakov were the only ones left. 

 

"Don't be stupid and make sure you get some rest," Yakov said gruffly but not unkindly as he gathered his things. He shot Victor a sharp look when he didn't reply, so Victor returned it with a smile.

 

"I will, Yakov."

 

Then, he was gone. Victor was alone on the ice. His smile bled away from his lips, and he shakily took in a deep breath. _Just for a while longer_ , he promised to no one as he started preparing to run through his free skate for the _n_ th time. He could feel his muscles straining at the thought of doing his routines again. _One more time, and then I'll leave_.

 

He went through his free skate a handful of times before he switched to practicing his short program. He practiced until he couldn't cleanly land his jumps anymore, until quads turned into triples and triples became doubles, until sweat ran down his face like tears and dripped from his chin. When he flubbed a jump and fell, the ice burning a brand into his flesh as he skidded across its surface, Victor didn't pick himself up right away. There was an ache in his feet, beaten and bruised from overexerting himself and bad enough that Victor would probably have to hide them from Yakov's sharp eyes; his arms hurt, too, from where they took the brunt of the fall; and his head was pounding a demanding pulse as it beat back any thoughts that might have wanted to crop up. Victor sincerely hoped that he hadn't somehow injured his head as well. Yakov would surely kill him then.

 

Pressing his cheek against the ice, Victor shut his eyes and promised, _I'll go back in just a second_.

 

* * *

 

He woke feeling chilled to the bone and sneezed, rubbing the sand from his eyes as he pushed himself up - only to have his hand slip out from under him. He flopped back onto the ice and groaned. His shirt stuck to his chest, heavy and wet from the rink, and his feet were twisted at an awkward angle because of his skates, and Victor wondered what he had been thinking, falling asleep on the ice when he already spent most of his life on it.

 

He should have listened to Yakov.

 

(Victor smiled and huffed an amused breath.) 

 

Breathing in, Victor picked himself off the rink with much more success this time around - he only stumbled slightly when trying to balance on his skates - and made his way to the rink's exit with a yawn. His bag was outside the locker room, sitting on the single bench there. Victor dug through it and pulled out his phone, grimacing at the time - Yakov would castrate him if he found out just how late he stayed behind, especially during competition season - but his attention was caught by the multiple notifications underneath it. They were all from Yuuri.

 

The first few were short recordings, all featuring Yuuri practicing his jumps with varying degrees of success, with one where he managed to land a quad schalchow and quad toe loop in succession, much to his delight. Victor couldn't help but smile at Yuuri's wide grin afterwards. He scrolled passed the videos, skimming over them in his sleepy haze, and read the texts that followed beneath it.

 

_I've never seen him this motivated to practice_

_Not to say that he's lazy because Yuuri definitely isn't_

_But he's been out of it lately, so thank you_

A picture of a grinning skater holding up a peace sign ended the string of messages that stopped about an hour ago. He blinked, brain churning at an embarrassingly slow pace, and sent  _You're welcome_ after a minute of staring. 

 

With that done, he sat down on the bench and unlaced his skates, wincing at the dull ache in his feet, and replaced them with his sneakers. He pulled on his jacket, thankful for the meager warmth, and zipped up his bag before pulling it over his shoulder. Victor didn't know if he could catch a taxi at this hour, or if he had the patience to, but his apartment was close enough that he could brave the cold and walk if he couldn't.

 

Once he locked the rink up - Yakov had given him a spare key, since Victor stayed back enough to warrant one - he turned towards the lobby and stopped in his tracks.

 

Outside, whipping across the air and slapping into the pavement and roads, was snow.

 

Victor closed his eyes and breathed out a calming breath before pulling the zipper of his jacket as high as it would go. 

 

"It's just a little cold," Victor murmured, sorely wishing he'd brought something warmer now that getting a taxi was out of the question. He made sure his shoes were on tight and his bag was securely over his shoulder as he continued his small pep talk. "The apartment is a few minutes away. There's not even that much snow. _Victor Nikiforov_ will _not_ be done in by his own element."

 

He walked over to the glass double doors, squared his shoulders, and-

 

\- pulled out his phone.

 

He took a picture of the dismal weather outside and captioned it _Wish me luck!,_ uploading it immediately. He made sure to focus on the rooftops, which were already piling with snow, so that Yakov wouldn't know that he was still at the rink in case word got out to him. It was a warranted precaution; it wouldn't be the first time Yakov caught him being somewhere he shouldn't based on his social media if he did.

 

As he watched the number of likes climb ( _time zones_ , Victor marveled. _Time zones and dedicated fans_ ) and read the comments wishing him luck, Victor felt like he could do _anything._  


(He couldn't do _anything_ per se, but when, half-way back to his apartment, his phone vibrated in his hand, and he glanced down to see  _Davai!_ flashing across the screen from Yuuri, it was as though the harsh wind clawing at his exposed skin was nothing but a gentle summer breeze caressing his cheek. The temperature jumped two dozen degrees. The clouds parted and, even though it was the middle of the night, Victor swore sunlight was slipping through the gaps.)

 

He made it back in record time.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, Victor woke up shivering but sweating underneath the comforter. There was a stubborn urge to sneeze even when he couldn't, and a pounding headache he was sure people halfway across the world could hear. Shifting, he managed to turn over onto his side, becoming aware of the ache in his legs and feet but too exhausted to do anything about it, and blindly patted the mattress until he came across Makkachin, who was slumbering a few inches away. He pulled her closer, murmuring a soft _Sorry_  when he jostled her out of her sleep, and buried his nose into soft brown fur.

 

Makkachin was warm. Victor, tired and half-conscious and on the cusp of drowning in the misery that came with the perpetual pain of sickness, was jealous but glad. Sleep sounded fine right now, and with Makkachin here, Victor was assured that he wouldn't freeze to death if he dozed off.

 

He buried his fingers deep into Makkachin's fur and rubbed her back, mumbling, "Good girl." Makkachin made a pleased, rumbling sound in her throat and licked his cheek.

 

When he fell asleep, toes cold but overall comfortable, he dreamed of skating and a smell sweet and soothing.

 

(In his haze, he thought it was probably Makkachin's new shampoo.)

 

(Later, Victor would realize that it wasn't.)

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it looks like you all like Victor's emoticons. I do, too! :D

_You'll do fine!_

_..._

  
_You're good enough to get_ _gold!_   


_..._

  
_Just skate a good program_ _(・_ _♡_ _・)b_   


_Victor, you're not helping!_

* * *

By the time the NHK Trophy rolled around, Victor was more or less cured of his illness, though not without a few days of suffering and missing practice. All that was left of it was a persistent heat rolling low in his gut, strong enough for him to remember that it was there from time to time but overall easy to forget in the rink. He supposed he should have gotten it checked out, but it hadn't _hurt_ so he figured he didn't need to.

 

Now, a day before the NHK Trophy, Victor felt something like impatience grip him. Yakov was intent on making up the days Victor missed with a more intense training regime, especially with the Rostelecom Cup fast approaching, and while Victor didn't mind it, he wanted to watch the NHK Trophy once he had found out that Yuuri was competing in it. The match would determine whether or not Yuuri would be able to move on to the GPF - and Victor knew he could make it, _wanted_ him to - but it looked like he still had some doubts even with _Victor Nikiforov_ telling him not to worry.

 

Honestly, was Victor that unreliable? He hoped not. Sure, he'd forget a few things here and there, sometimes important and sometimes not, but when it came to skating Victor was, at the very least, competent in judging programs. So long as Yuuri managed most of his jumps and got a high presentation score, he would win hands down.

 

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

 

  
_I don't think I'll be able to land my jumps_ , Yuuri had texted him. _I've been practicing and practicing, but I know I won't be able to_  


It had sounded like Yuuri was apologizing.

"Victor!" Yakov snapped from where he was helping out one of the junior skaters. He was a small, blond-headed boy, Mila's friend, and talented when it came to skating - ambitious, too, if Yakov's complaints about him trying jumps that were too strenuous on his developing body were anything to go by. He shot Victor a venomous glare when Yakov's back was to him; Victor tilted his head at him. "Get off your phone and stretch!"

 

"Sorry, Yakov," Victor apologized, not sorry at all. He tucked his phone away and stood from where he was lounging on the bench, offering his coach a thousand-watt smile, heart-shape and all. In response, Yakov leveled him with an unimpressed, slightly aggravated stare, immune to Victor's amiable personality after years of putting up with his less than professional whims. Victor toned down his smile as he started his stretches. "I'm a bit distracted by the NHK. It's starting tomorrow."

 

"You were never distracted by the other competitions before," Yakov groused, turning back to the boy he was helping and adjusted his posture. "Yuri, stand up straight. I know you have abysmal posture everywhere else, but when you're on the ice- are you listening to me? Yuri? _Yuri_ \- !"

 

"I _am_ listening!" Yuri said, sounding disgruntled and more than displeased. "I've _been_ listening, Yakov. When am I going to get to actually skate? All this baby stuff is getting annoying!"

 

Victor chuckled as Yakov bickered with Yuri. Yakov's scent was rising in his frustration, rising and rising and rising - _like his blood pressure_ , Victor thought, coughing to cover the bubbling laughter - but there was no threat to it. After years of training under him, Victor knew that Yakov's scent was used primarily to make sure his skaters - namely Victor - knew that he was getting wound up, but it never turned aggressive or overbearing. Yakov was too kind for that; he preferred to raise his voice and make them listen instead. It worked, for the most part, on everyone except Victor.

 

It didn't hurt to try, though.

 

As he continued to stretch, Victor's thoughts strayed back to Yuuri. He hadn't thought his words would affect him so much to the point that he felt pressured to make it to the GPF because Victor wanted him to. They'd been genuine encouragements, Victor wishing Yuuri luck during his practice, giving him pointers on his quads whether or not Yuuri asked, making sure that he hadn't broken a bone or twisted an ankle while skating, because Victor cared. 

 

He wanted to see Yuuri skate again, wanted to see him land his quads and smile at the end of a great performance, wanted him to see Victor skate, too. He wanted to smile while on the ice with Yuuri there, wanted to congratulate him and be congratulated in return, wanted to stand on the podium with Yuuri, wanted to wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer for a picture, medals glinting in the light, eyes shining-

 

He just wanted to see Yuuri again.

 

The revelation left him staring at his shoes. They were dusted with specks of dirt from his morning run, colored red on white like his jacket, the exact opposite of Yuuri's blue on black, but the red reminded him of his flushed ears when he left with his coach and his friend beside him, of his pink-dusted cheeks as he exchanged numbers with Victor. It made him wonder how warm his skin would be against Victor's pale hands, if his cool fingertips would make Yuuri shiver, if it'd make his skin flush even deeper.

 

Warmth sprouted in his chest, its roots reaching far, deeper, until it ensnared his heart and lungs and made it hard to breathe. There was the distinct edge of his scent wafting into the air, cool and sharp, peppermint and ice strung together with longing. For _Yuuri_. 

 

Victor blinked. There was a hand on his shoulder. Yakov was shaking him.

 

"Vitya." His voice was low and hard, commanding but not demanding. He was tense and more than aware of Victor's scent growing stronger by the second. The other skaters were glancing over at him, some shifting uneasily at Victor's scent. They all gave them a wide berth as they watched on, wondering what was wrong with him. "Snap out of it! What on earth has gotten into you?"

 

"Yakov," Victor started, breathless and wide-eyed, a smile blooming across his lips. He grabbed Yakov's hand, startling him with the intensity of his gaze, and he leaned forward, eyes glimmering as he whispered: "Yakov, I think I might've fallen in love."

 

Yakov stared at him, shocked and incredulous for one, long moment, before his face twisted into a deep scowl and he hit Victor over the head. "Get to practice, Vitya! I don't get paid enough to deal with your nonsense!"

 

"But- "

 

"If you're not on the rink in the next five seconds, I'm adding an hour for each second you go over." Yakov pulled away and leveled his narrow-eyed stare at Victor. " _One_ -"

 

Victor scrambled to take his shoes off. "Wait, Yakov, my skates!"

 

" _Two_ \- "

 

"Yakov!"

 

He ended up staying three hours later after he'd managed to cheat Yakov by throwing himself on the ice while wearing socks, golden-blade skates clutched victoriously in his hands.

 

* * *

 

_I'm sorry_

Short and simple and sent two hours ago. Victor dragged a hand through his hair and put his phone away, dropping down onto the bench and leaning back against the wall. He breathed out harsh, haggard breaths, exhausted from being pushed to his limits from the moment he'd stepped onto the rink earlier that morning - the morning of the NHK Trophy. Yakov was relentless, and Victor knew why, had expected it after all the years he'd trained under him, because if there was any way to fully, completely distract Victor from anything at all, it was skating until he couldn't skate anymore.

 

(Somewhere unreasonable and fueled by emotions, Victor wished he hadn't. He missed the NHK short programs, missed Yuuri skate, wasn't there to combat the doubts lingering in Yuuri's head, and Victor felt overwhelmingly useless.)

 

"Hey, Victor, you're taking up all the space."

 

Peeking one eye open, Victor saw Yuri, sweating and out of breath as he looked expectantly at him. He pulled his lips into a weary smile and shifted over enough for the younger skater to sit. "Yuri, right? Mila likes to talk about you sometimes."

 

Yuri dropped down beside him on the bench, wiping sweat off his face with the back of his hand. He frowned and huffed. "Mila likes to talk about everyone - especially you. She won't shut up about you."

 

Victor, too tired to feign offense at his disgusted tone, laughed. "I can't argue with that."

 

Mila had been absent for a few days - presenting, probably, given that Yakov had refused to tell him anything. The rink was quiet without her around. Victor rarely talked to the other skaters even if he kept affable fronts that never lasted longer than a simple greeting and occasional assistance when they asked for it, though the latter was becoming less and less common for reasons Victor couldn't figure out. In any case, Mila's absence had been marked and noted by Victor. It made him realize how the only skater around his age that he considered a companion was Georgi, who, while overall kind, mostly came to Victor for a shoulder to cry on when one of his relationships flopped.

 

(Of course, there was always Chris, but he was miles away in a completely different _country_  and communication between them had only gone as far as liking Instagram posts or commenting on them with the rare text when it was off-season. If anything, they spent more time being rivals or fellow respected skaters than friends.)

 

Victor Nikiforov, living legend, whose only companion was a girl almost a decade younger than him.

 

He pressed a hand to his face and tried to console himself with the fact that Yuuri, at least, was his friend. 

 

His phone vibrated. He made a move to reach for it, but then Yuri leaned forward, looking up at him then at the phone sitting beside him, and said: "Who are you texting? You've been doing that a lot even though I've never seen you text anyone before, and Yakov's been more annoying lately because you won't get off your phone." He paused, considering, then added, "I didn't think you had friends."

 

Victor smiled, hard and full of edges. "I'm texting my _friend_ ," he deliberately emphasized. "His name is Yuuri, too."

 

Yuri's nose wrinkled at that. "Does he skate, too?"

 

"Of course." Victor unlocked his phone and glanced at the notification. It was from Chris' Instagram. Curious, Victor decided to check it out.

 

Chris' winking face appeared a moment later.

 

  
**@christophe-gc** _Can't wait to break my personal best for the free skate too! #NHK #GoingfortheGold_  


Pieces of Yuuri's dilemma clicked together. Victor's lips pulled into a half-smile as he liked Chris' post.

 

(He'd completely forgot Chris was assigned to the NHK Trophy.)

 

"So he's good?" Yuri asked, dragging Victor out of his thoughts for a moment, interest flickering in his green-eyed gaze. At Victor's distracted nod, he continued, "He'll be at the Grand Prix Final, then, right?"

 

Victor hummed, pressing a finger to his lips at he looked at his phone. "Definitely."

 

Leaning back, Yuri stared up at the ceiling. He looked like he was contemplating something, his brows drawn together and lips pressed in a thoughtful frown. "I want to meet him," he said after silence seeped between them. Victor blinked over at him, surprised, and Yuri flushed and hunched his shoulders. "I don't want people thinking I'm a _loser_ once I debut into senior because of him. If he's going around competing with _my_ name, I have to make sure he's good enough for it!"

 

"Yuuri is good enough for it - _too_ good, really." Victor raised an eyebrow at Yuri and smirked. "But are _you_ going to be able to live up to it?"

 

"Of course I will!" Yuri snapped, jumping onto his feet. Despite being unpresented, and having a generally weak scent because of it, Victor could smell his ire rolling off him. "I'll show you which one of us is better once I make my senior debut!"

 

He could feel Yuri's irritation now, weighted and heated but nothing but a candle's flame in reality. Victor tilted his head and smiled. "I can't wait."

 

* * *

 

It wasn't until after he came home and watched the NHK playback that Victor looked at Yuuri's message again.

 

  
_I'm sorry_ , Yuuri had texted him, and it sounded like he was apologizing for more than just his short program - which, Victor would like to vehemently add, had placed him third and was therefore not something to apologize about at all _._ It was as if he was apologizing for not being good enough, for _trying_ at all when he'd convinced himself he would fail, for letting Victor down when all he really wanted was for Yuuri to skate to the best of his abilities and have the time of his life doing so.

 

Victor messed up. He knew it. For all that he hadn't meant to, Victor had pressured Yuuri. Skaters had fragile hearts, Yuuri more so than others - more so than Victor, who had encased his own in a block of ice, and _Victor messed up_.

 

He could pick himself up after a failed jump and fix a botched step sequence, had done it over and over and over until Victor forgot how bitter failure tasted on his tongue. But this wasn't skating. This was Yuuri with his glass heart and sparkling eyes, whose mind had taken Victor's words and held them over his head like a threat, who stayed silent when he should have been yelling at the top of his lungs. Yuuri, who Victor only wanted to make happy.

 

He pressed his thumb to the keypad and poured his thoughts into words. It wasn't until after he had forced himself to press _SEND_ the moment he finished that Victor realized how much of his message ended up being more of him asking Yuuri how he could help rather than assuaging his worries, but he couldn't bring himself to be guilty about it. He wanted to help Yuuri, wanted to know and understand him as intimately as Victor knew Makkachin, but he couldn't do that properly without some guidance from Yuuri himself.

 

When he retired for the night, slipping into bed and feeling Makkachin curl up at his back, Victor hoped that, maybe, after this, he'd be able to learn more about Yuuri.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Victor was already reaching for his phone before he was fully conscious. Opening an eye, Victor saw that Yuuri had responded back not long after Victor went to sleep.

 

_You don't have to do anything_

_Just keep believing that I'll win more than I do_

Victor couldn't resist the smile he smothered into his pillow. Yuuri's response was only a small step forward. Victor should be more concerned about the fact that he had stayed up so late before a competition than anything else, but Yuuri asked him to believe, to keep believing, and Victor would do nothing else if he could help it. 

  
_I wouldn't do anything less_ , he sent back. 

 

 

 

 

(Yuuri won silver. He was eligible for the GPF.

 

  
_Congratulations_ , Victor texted as he watched the live-stream, smiling along with Yuuri, who was sweaty and exhausted as he grinned to the audience. His position in the GPF wasn't set in stone yet, but he was _happy_ , and that was enough for Victor. _You deserve it._  


  
_Thank you_ , Yuuri replied once he'd left the rink and escaped the reporters. _I wouldn't have been able to do it without you._  


No matter how much he tried to contain it, Victor's heart soared, and he had to press a hand to his mouth to make sure it wouldn't fly off and leave him.)

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for your support! It means the world to me :)

_The Rostelecom Cup is coming up soon, right?_

 

_Good luck, Victor!_

 

_~ヾ(＾∇＾)_

 

* * *

 

Victor spent the days leading up to the Rostelecom Cup doing nothing but training. It wasn't out of the ordinary itself; Victor was dedicated to skating, had given it hours upon hours, year after year of his life, and it was more common to find him on a rink than anywhere else. The only difference this time was his reason, and it showed.

 

  
_Good luck,_ Yuuri had texted him, and Victor wondered what was so different about it that it made him feel like he could glide across the ice, free and unfettered, as he used to before. It was a part of him he had lost somewhere along the way to becoming a three-now going four-time World champion, and he'd tried and tried to replicate it, to recreate it somehow in each of his programs, but it always seemed to dance out of his grasp. He'd worried that he would never be able to capture it again, had agonized over it because what good was he when he couldn't even surprise his audience anymore?

 

It had lingered in the back of his mind, something dark and merciless - until now. Because of a text whose contents wasn't anything special, was just a phrase he'd heard called out to him thousands of times before in dozens of different languages, and it should be meaningless, now, especially after all he'd accomplished these passed years, but it wasn't. It _isn't_.

 

(It probably never would be, so long as it was Yuuri telling him so.)

 

He kicked off the ice and into a quad flip, one higher than he had ever done during practice, and landed crisp and steady back on his skates. His cheeks ached from smiling so wide for so long. His body thrummed in a way it hadn't done in the passed few years, pleasant and humming with energy he didn't know still existed in the bands of his muscles and the flow of his blood. Elated, he jumped again, higher, higher, higher.

 

It felt like he was flying.

 

He was laughing when he touched ground, though he overbalanced at the force of it. He doubled over at the center of the rink, trying to catch his breath in between breathless chuckles.

 

"Victor!" Yakov scolded from somewhere behind him. "Get your head out of the clouds and focus!"

 

Victor swallowed his lingering mirth and turned to face Yakov with the widest grin on his lips. "I can't help it, Yakov. Yuuri told me good luck!" He clasped his hands behind his back and skated around in a small circle. "I feel like I can do a thousand quad flips and still have energy for more."

 

"Keep your romantic nonsense out of the rink, Vitya," Yakov said before Victor could continue any further, exasperated. It wasn't the first time they'd had a conversation like this, and it certainly wouldn't be the last one considering how attached Victor was to his phone, and to the skater on the other side of the screen. Yakov sighed, loud and heavy. "Luck or not, I won't have you missing the podium because you're  _smitten_ of all things."

 

"It's not like you need the luck, anyway," Yuri added as he lazily skated by, circling around Victor once before stopping close to Yakov. "You've practically won already."

 

Victor felt his lips thin at that, but the smile stayed stubbornly on his lips. Yuri didn't know how much it meant to him, to be told good luck after years of hearing _What will you do once you win gold?,_ and Victor hoped that he wouldn't have to. It was a life that would drain away his bubbling potential and passion for skating - something that Victor hadn't realized was happening to him until it suddenly wasn't anymore, because Yuuri had come along and gave him someone he could keep surprising.

 

Shrugging, he pressed a finger to his lips and turned his gaze upwards. The expectant lilt to his words went, for the most part, unnoticed when he said, "You never know."

 

* * *

 

Two days before the Rostelecom Cup, Victor stepped into the lobby of the airport and was greeted by the familiar screech and squeal of his fans. Yakov had insisted that they arrive early to avoid getting caught in the snowstorm predicted to come tomorrow, and it had paid off considering the terrible turbulence and beginnings of snow whipping passed his window as they landed. Still, Victor guessed that Yakov had wanted to avoid the weather _and_ his more than enthusiastic fans if his somewhat peeved mood was anything to go buy.

 

As they made their way passed the crowd, Yakov forcing them to part away with both the stony lines of his expression and the building irritation coloring his scent, Victor smiled and offered his fans a small wave. They exploded and pressed closer, the pitch of their ecstatic shrieks rising at least an octave. Yakov threw a glare over his shoulder; Victor responded with a wink that made the fans who caught it swoon.

 

Once they managed to get outside, a short layer of snow crunching underneath their feet as they walked and winds that howled and whistled by, Yakov was quick to catch them a taxi. It didn't do much to keep them warm from the low temperatures that remained between the layers of their clothes and skin, but it did relieve them from the harsh winds for a thankful moment. Victor pulled his scarf higher and sniffed. It had been a while since the weather had gotten this bad; he was sure his nose was numb cold.

 

Yakov's eyes slid over to him. "Don't tell me you've caught something, Vitya."

 

"Then I won't tell," Victor answered heartily, smiling over at his coach despite the way it pulled his lips too tight. When Yakov's stare didn't relent, Victor buried as much of his face as he could into his scarf and said, "I haven't caught anything, Yakov." He paused, closed his eyes and was glad the way his smile turned warm was hidden from sight. "Thank you for worrying."

 

Yakov turned away with a huff but a gentle look remained in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but Victor was fine with that. Yakov was a private man and generally unaffectionate, but more than a decade under his care had made Victor adept at catching his cues no matter how slight they were. He was concerned, and that was all Victor needed to know.

 

When they arrived to the hotel, Victor felt a burst of heat blow passed him the moment he opened the door to lobby. _It's warm_ , was his first thought. Gentle lights shone from overhead, golden and welcoming as Yakov hurried passed him to the front desk to check them in. Victor stood with their baggage, looking at nothing in particular but searching all the same.

 

For some absurd reason, his second thought was _Yuuri_.

 

Curious, he tilted his head back and breathed in deep, picking apart scents to see if he could find Yuuri's. There was an unlikely chance of that happening, so much so that Victor shouldn't even be considering it in the first place, but here he was, searching for Yuuri anyway. If Yuri were here, he'd no doubt call him an idiot. Victor didn't think he'd be able to argue against it, especially now. He swore he caught a faint trace of Yuuri's scent, but when he took in another breath, it had vanished altogether.

 

Victor frowned. If Yuuri was here, what did he come for? It couldn't have been to watch him since Yuuri had to train for the GPF himself, but why else would Yuuri come to a competition that wasn't his own if not to watch? He rocked back onto his heels, thinking. Scouting the competition, perhaps? It was a bit late in the game to do that but always a possibility. Still, if he were scouting, it would have been better if he had masked his scent somehow so he wouldn't be noticed. Victor could smell him clear as day.

 

Shifting, Victor let his eyes wander about the other people in the lobby. There was an unnatural excitement unfurling in his chest, one that urged his heart to beat quicker in anticipation, and Victor couldn't help the way his scent rose like it was being issued a challenge, seeking and enticing, ready to draw Yuuri to him if he couldn't find him himself. 

 

Before he could do anything else, though, Yakov's voice broke through his haze. "Here, Victor." Victor snapped back to awareness and turned to Yakov, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. Yakov was holding out a card key, brows pulled together as he watched Victor regain his bearings. Luckily, he didn't comment on the fact that Victor's scent was more noticeable than usual and instead said, "Room 407."

 

"Thank you, Yakov," Victor said, tacking on a small smile when Yakov continued to scrutinize him.

 

When Yakov noticed a young couple glancing over at them, he clicked his tongue and grabbed his luggage. He strode passed him with a clipped, "Let's get settled down, first."

 

Victor followed after him, suitcase in tow. "Can we go sight-seeing afterwards?"

 

"You've been to Moscow dozens of times, Vitya. What else is there to see?" The elevator doors slid open the moment Yakov pressed the button, and they made their way up to their floor without interruption.

 

"Yuri told me that there was a good pirozhki stand here," Victor said once they slowed to a stop. "Mila also mentioned a great bakery nearby when she came here to compete." He grabbed the handle of his suitcase and stepped out, about to make another remark only to be cut off by the scent in the hall. He froze and pressed a hand to his forehead, blinking away the fog creeping up on him.

 

Yakov stopped a few paces ahead of him, turning back to shoot him a concerned glance. "Vitya?"

 

Victor forced himself to meet Yakov's gaze. "It's nothing, Yakov. I'm just- tired from the ride."

 

His coach didn't look the slightest bit convinced. "You should stay in for the night," Yakov suggested.

 

"I probably should," Victor agreed. It took a struggling second, but Victor managed to uproot his feet and move his legs. The scent was stronger down the hall, a few doors from Victor's own, and he itched to go to it but swiped his card key through the scanner instead.

 

Yakov gave him a dubious look. "Will you?"

 

"I don't think so," Victor hummed, a smile dancing on his lips. "I have a feeling I'll find something I'll like if I go out tonight."

 

* * *

 

Despite his words, Victor ended up staying inside for the night, rolling his suitcase off to the side before dropping down onto the bed situated in the middle of the room. While he wasn't tired, Victor didn't feel like moving around with Yuuri's scent outside his door, so he pulled out his phone and turned off airplane mode, waiting for notifications from while he was on the plane to come in with his cheek pressed to one of the pillows.

 

Even with the wall between him and the hallway, Victor could still make out wisps of Yuuri's scent seeping into his room. He hadn't realized it the first time around, but Yuuri's scent calmed him. It made his mind blank out and body relax into the sheets, wrapped around him like a comfortable blanket, and it- it felt like _home_ even though home for him had been a cold too-spacious apartment and Makkachin's soft fur for as long as he could remember.

 

He put aside the thought when his phone vibrated. _How was the flight?_  Yuuri had asked him nearly an hour ago.

 

  
_Terrible,_ Victor wanted to say. _Their food was stale and my flight got delayed and we had to circle around for almost half an hour before we could land._ _Most of all,_ _I couldn't text you._  


 

He blinked at that, surprised by his own thoughts. Maybe Yakov was right about him being smitten. Yuuri was nice and liked poodles as much as he did, loved skating as much as he did, and the small smile he gave Victor before he had left had become a permanent fixture in his thoughts. He enjoyed exchanging texts with him - and, occasionally, with his friend Phichit whenever he managed to get his hands on Yuuri's phone - and sometimes Victor would remember the way he looked at him, brown eyes shining, and be overcome by _want_.

  
_Aeroflot is horrible!_  Victor replied, his cheeks warm when he hastily jabbed the _SEND_ button. He threw an arm over his eyes and tried to fight down the blush climbing up to his ears. Yuuri's scent seemed a hundred times stronger mixed in with his own growing scent, and Victor swallowed down his mess of a heart trying to beat its way out his throat.

 

His phone vibrated again, but Victor couldn't bring himself to pay it any mind, not when all he could think about was how _right_ it felt to have his scent tangled with Yuuri's like they belonged together.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like I was neglecting Yuuri, so here's a chapter in his POV. He's a ball of feelings, though.

"What do you mean you're not going to tell him?"

 

Yuuri hunched his shoulders and turned away, acutely aware of the heat coloring his cheeks and Phichit's incredulous stare on his back. "I just- " He struggled for a moment, hands gesturing wide and vague, then finally said, "I want to surprise him."

 

Phichit pouted and crossed his arms. They were in their shared dorm, Yuuri at his desk as he fiddled with his mechanical pencil while sending furtive glances over his shoulder at Phichit, looking frantic and embarrassed as usual whenever he did anything out of the ordinary. Yuuri's fluctuating moods were something Phichit had gotten used to when he first moved in and paired up with Yuuri at the rink, and he'd learned to dispel them with an easy smile and change in topic whenever it got particularly bad.

 

Now, though, there was a shadow of steel in his eyes. Oddly enough, he looked determined, like he was about to step onto the rink rather than about to surprise his childhood idol and alpha of his dreams. They were the same thing, really, as far as Yuuri was concerned.

 

Leaning back against the wall, one of his hands reached up to smooth the fur of one of his hamsters. "I guess I understand," Phichit said, and Yuuri's shoulders visibly relaxed. Phichit smiled; if Yuuri hadn't already rubbed himself raw with scent-masking soaps in consideration for the few alphas at the rink, he was sure he would have smelled his relief. As it was, Phichit couldn't smell anything other than the orange-scented air freshener and his own beta scent. "How do you plan on surprising him?"

 

"I- um," Yuuri pushed up his glasses and nearly dropped his pencil. "I haven't really thought about it. I was just, I don't know, going to wave and tell him hi?"

 

Phichit loved Yuuri - really, he did. Sometimes, though, he wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

 

"Absolutely _not_ ," Phichit exclaimed, startling Yuuri into giving him a wide-eyed look. He stood up on his twin bed, towering above Yuuri, and jabbed a finger at him. "I didn't get permission to smuggle you to the Rostelecom Cup just so you could tell Victor Nikiforov _hi_! This is the living legend of figure skating, Yuuri! The three-time World Champion! How is that supposed to surprise him?"

 

"He won't know that I'm there," Yuuri protested weakly. "He's not expecting me to show up, so it'll be a surprise no matter what I do."

 

"That's exactly why you need to go all out," Phichit retorted. He hopped down from the bed, his fall cushioned by the carpeted floor, and set a hand on Yuuri's shoulder, eyes alight with the endless possibilities. "I'll make sure to make it a grade A surprise, Yuuri. Victor won't even know what's coming."

 

"P-Phichit," Yuuri started, but the Thai skater was already turning away.

 

"Since we're in the same hotel, we'll need to keep you hidden. I won't have him noticing you before the competition," he said as he paced back and forth. "Maybe you should surprise him at the kiss and cry. He'll like that, right, Yuuri? Or do you want to do it before he starts to skate? Oh, but he usually sleeps in, so that won't work. What about props?  _Trumpets_  - we need trumpets. And an organ - Yuuri, do you know an organist? - Oh, and _flowers_ , we can't forget those either. Do you know what kind of flowers he likes, Yuuri? It's fine if you don't. We can always use- "

 

Yuuri buried his face into his arms and tuned Phichit out, feeling like his friend was planning his wedding rather than a surprise encounter with Victor. On his desk beside him, Victor chose that moment to message back a cheery,  _Thank you, Yuuri!_  


 

Peeking an eye open to stare at it for a moment, Phichit's excited chatter white noise to his thoughts, Yuuri felt his stomach do ridiculous somersaults, delighted and pleased.

 

When Victor had first helped him out during Skate America and later asked to exchange numbers with his dazzling smile and sharp scent faint on both their skin, Yuuri had been both flustered and beyond happy by the fact that Victor wanted to keep in touch with him. It was no secret to anyone who knew him that he idolized Victor and yearned to skate on the same ice as him in hopes of being noticed. To say that his childhood dream had been accomplished with their first encounter was a complete understatement. 

 

Victor had taken his dream, fulfilled it in the span of twenty seconds, and given him a new one with a smile and a promise.

 

_I'll be waiting for you on the podium._

Yuuri felt his face flush again. He was sure Victor hadn't been aware of it at the time, but hearing that had lit a fire of motivation in Yuuri. For Yuuri the skater, it was a promise to compete against each other again without holding back. For Yuuri the person, it was a promise that Victor would believe in Yuuri and his abilities. For Yuuri the omega, it was a promise of a next time, of a continuation, of a chance to let whatever this was between them grow into something better.

 

To Yuuri, there was no better story than one that never ended.

 

He hoped this small page between he and Victor would be able to grow into a timeless epic.

 

(But that was just wishful thinking.)

 

* * *

 

When they arrived to the hotel near the rink hosting the Rostelecom Cup, Phichit had ordered him to stay in their shared room - Celestino had stood firm for about two minutes into Phichit's puppy dog eyes and pleas and _It's for Yuuri's birthday, Ciao Ciao! He has to come!_ before he gave in with a sigh and booked a two-person room - and took it upon himself to get food when they weren't feeling up to room service. He was getting them pirozhkis, if his Instagram posts were anything to go by, and Yuuri was left with nothing better to do than lay on his bed - the one by the window because Phichit had shooed him off the one closer to the door with an exclaimed, _What if Victor catches your scent?_.

 

Yuuri had told him that _he_ could barely make out his own scent underneath the scent-masking soaps he'd lathered on three times over. For good measure, he added that with the walls, Victor wouldn't even notice if they held an entire buffet in their room, much less his faint scent, but Phichit had been adamant. 

 

So Yuuri stared out the window and waited, wondering if this was a good idea. He hoped Phichit didn't get his hands on any trumpets. Yuuri managed to dissuade him from getting an organist and to keep the flowers to a minimum, but he had completely forgotten about the trumpets until Phichit sent him a sly glance when they passed a small music shop while heading to the hotel. Phichit was a great friend, and Yuuri was grateful for him, but did he really have to turn his surprise for Victor into a surprise wedding sans rings?

 

Yuuri shot up from the bed, glasses skewed and eyes wide. What if he bought _rings_?

 

He scrambled for his phone, clumsily turning it on with the intent of repeatedly telling Phichit _not to buy rings_. The time flashed up at him, and Yuuri was half-way to unlocking it when he froze. 

 

Yuuri could pinpoint the exact time Victor came up to his hotel room.

 

His familiar scent eased its way through the cracks of the door, reached out to him like Victor wanted to pull him closer, and Yuuri choked on his breath when he tasted cool peppermint on his tongue. Was Victor's scent always so powerful? Yuuri didn't think so. Aside from the time in the bathroom where Victor had used his scent as an intimidation tactic, it had remained leashed and caged in his scent glands, enough to notice if someone were close but otherwise undetectable.

 

Pulling the neck of his jacket up to his nose, because Yuuri was positive he wouldn't be able to string a sentence together if he breathed in too much of Victor's scent, he escaped into the bathroom with his phone and locked himself in there.

 

  
_Victor's here_ , he texted to Phichit. The message didn't embody even a fraction of the panic he felt. _I can smell him from the room. Help. What if he knows I'm here?_  


  
_hide in the bathroom,_ Phichit replied less than five seconds later. Yuuri, suddenly, was thankful that Phichit always carried his phone around with him. _didn't you mask your scent already? you'll be fine!_  


Yuuri felt the corner of his lips pull down into a frown. Wasn't it Phichit who was worrying over this just ten minutes ago? What had happened to that?

 

  
_I did,_ Yuuri sent back anyway. _When are you coming back?_  


_i'm omw rn_

And- okay, that was fine. Phichit would come up and everything would be (mostly) all right. He was good at that, making everything seem less like the world was about to implode and more like the air in his lungs wouldn't come up and suffocate him, so Yuuri pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and waited.

 

A moment passed, then two, then three, and when Yuuri was about to question _why_ he was doing this entire surprise thing in the first place - because, honestly, Victor had more things to do than entertain Yuuri and pretend he was delighted by his presence, and Yuuri had probably stepped passed an unspoken line by trying to be with him outside a competition because Victor had only wanted to be with him during one - on the podium, specifically - and hadn't mentioned meeting up anywhere as Yuuri and Victor instead of living legend and dime-a-dozen skater, and oh god what was he _doing-_  


His phone vibrated in his hand, and Yuuri jerked, nearly dropping it onto the tiled floor. Shakily, he focused enough to read the notification and realized it was Victor texting him.

 

_Aeroflot is horrible!_

Yuuri didn't understand why he was telling him that. Had he- oh, he'd asked him how his flight went. Yes. That's right. He'd completely forgotten about that.

 

His thumbs hovered over the keypad. He needed to reply. Victor was talking to him and Yuuri needed to reply _this instant_ or else Victor would forget him and-

 

  
_I'm sorry to hear that._ He stared. It felt empty, leaving it like that, so he tacked on a random emoticon.  _⊂(・﹏・⊂)_  


He waited. By the time five minutes had passed, Yuuri was wondering if Victor had forgotten him. The omega in him whined, pitiful and hurt, but the more rational side, small as it was in his moment of doubt, shushed it. Victor was a busy person - and tired, too, if he just got off his flight. He probably fell asleep without meaning to.

 

As he sat on the bathroom floor, back pressed to the far wall, he distantly wondered when Phichit would come back. It had helped, somewhat, texting Victor. It didn't seem like he noticed Yuuri was here, hadn't mentioned it yet, so that calmed Yuuri down considerably.

 

His phone vibrated again. Yuuri looked at it fully expecting a text from Phichit. It was from Victor.

 

_Aw, Yuuri! Are you offering me a hug? ( ´ ♡ ` )_

Before Yuuri could even think about replying, because he adored Victor's heart-mouth emoticons just as much as he did the real thing and short-circuited for a precious second, his phone vibrated again.

 

_It's too bad you aren't here_

"I _am_ here," Yuuri mumbled into his forearms. It wasn't like he could tell Victor that, but it'd be a great surprise later if Yuuri went up and- "Oh." His eyes lit up, and a smile bloomed across his lips. " _Oh_."

 

He needed to talk to Phichit.

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

Yuuri pressed his lips together as they walked through the stadium's back halls. "I think it will."

 

Phichit made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat, glancing around curiously since it was his first time participating in the Rostelecom Cup. Yuuri didn't see anything that was different from the other rinks they competed at besides the Cyrillic that dominated the signs and posters they passed by, but that was to be expected.

 

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. Victor's scent was apparent even this far from the waiting room.

 

"Is Victor there already? I don't smell anything," Phichit said, pouting. He hadn't smelled anything at the hotel either even though Yuuri was breathing in nothing but Victor's scent. Neither of them were sure if it was because betas had less sensitive noses or because Yuuri was on edge with worry and therefore too sensitive to everything, but they had left it alone after Phichit shoved a pirozhki into his hands and forced him to eat. "I thought he usually slept in."

 

"He is, and he does," Yuuri confirmed. He glanced over at Phichit. "... You didn't bring a trumpet without me knowing, did you?"

 

"Nope! Skater's word."

 

Yuuri smiled. "Flowers?"

 

"Only a bouquet," Phichit said, handing him over a bouquet of red roses. Yuuri stifled a groan of embarrassment. Of course Phichit would do this. "You didn't want to march through flower petals to your future-husband, so I figured a proclamation of your undying love would work instead."

 

" _Phichit_ ," Yuuri whined, face steadily becoming as scarlet as the roses. " _Why_?"

 

Phichit grinned at him, all teeth. "Because I'm your best friend." He looked away and shrugged. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think he'll look too much into it." Yuuri made a low distressed noise, but Phichit laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. They were getting closer to the waiting area. "Ready?"

 

"As ready as I'll ever be," Yuuri sighed. When Phichit raised an eyebrow at him, Yuuri smiled and shooed him off. "Go distract Victor. I'll come in soon."

 

"Don't keep your future-husband waiting," Phichit teased before he bounded away, leaving Yuuri with a stubborn flush in his cheeks.

 

Standing just outside the waiting area, Yuuri could hear bits and pieces of the conversation between Phichit and Victor, which primarily consisted of Phichit asking for pictures in different angles and Victor happily obliging him. Yuuri tried to calm himself, tightening and releasing his hold around the flowers, and breathed in deep. Victor's scent filled him, cool but relaxing, and he felt the tension melt away as he breathed out.

 

He pushed away the curtain and stepped inside, spotting Phichit and Victor chattering away to the side of the room. Victor's back was to him, but Phichit must have spotted him because the genial smile on his lips sharpened and he was tapping the case of his phone like he wanted to take a photo.

 

"-ent to go sit in the stands. Ciao Ciao said that I couldn't bring him back here even if he was a skater."

 

Victor tilted his head. Yuuri came closer, ears picking up enough of the conversation underneath his pounding pulse to figure out that they were talking about him. "That's too bad. I wanted to talk to him again."

 

"Really?" Phichit looked absolutely _gleeful_  when Yuuri came up behind Victor. His phone was out, but he was making a show of not taking a picture - most likely recording since that was the next best thing. "Maybe he'll treat you to a nice surprise once you see each other."

 

Yuuri felt time stop for one, glorious second. His mind went blank, he felt weightless, but with one pointed look from Phichit, he wrapped his arms around Victor's torso and pressed flush against his back. He felt Victor stiffen underneath his touch, and it was nearly enough to make Yuuri throw himself away, but instead he managed to churn out a weak, "Surprise." There was a moment of stilted silence, and Yuuri felt himself go haywire. "... I got you flowers?"

 

He flinched when Victor pressed a hand to one of his own, but before he could pull away, Victor whirled around and threw his arms around him. "Yuuri!"

 

Yuuri carefully didn't think about how nice his voice sounded rolling off Victor's tongue. He carefully did not think about Victor's tongue, either. Instead, he focused on how warm Victor felt wrapped around him, how it made his heart overflow with contentment. He burrowed closer unconsciously, breathing in Victor's diminishing scent.

 

Victor squeezed him tighter like he didn't want to let Yuuri go. "Hi," he said, something like amusement dancing in his tone.

 

A small laugh bubbled up, a warm smile was on Yuuri's lips. "Hello."

 

"I think this is the best gift anyone's ever gotten me before a competition," Victor said, almost wonderingly. Yuuri could hear the smile in his voice. "Actually, I think this may be the best gift ever."

 

" _Ohmygodohmygodohmygod_." Yuuri buried his burning face into Victor's shoulder when Phichit started furiously whispering to his camera. "Do you guys see this? Do you guys _see this_?"

 

"Phichit," Yuuri groaned, torn between hiding himself behind Victor or glaring over his shoulder at Phichit.

 

"Right. Sorry." Phichit cleared his throat, averting his eyes but not his phone. "Carry on."

 

Victor laughed and looked over his shoulder to send a wink to the camera, while Yuuri slowly pulled himself out of Victor's hold, red-faced and uncomfortably aware of the stares from the rink workers and other skaters. When he tried to step away, Victor didn't let him go completely. He kept an arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him to his side with a grin, whipping out his own phone.

 

"Let's take a picture, Yuuri!"

 

Yuuri, a bit dazed, said, "... Okay." He pointedly kept his gaze away from Phichit, who had pressed a hand to his lips and looked like stars may shoot out of his eyes.

 

Victor pressed a cheek to his hair, smiling up at the camera. He was dazzling even through a camera's lens, and Yuuri was too caught off guard by how overjoyed Victor looked to remember to smile when he took the picture. 

 

Yuuri blinked, startled. "W-wait, I didn't- "

 

"This one's perfect." Victor said, tapping away on his phone. Yuuri was horrified to see that he was saving it was his lockscreen wallpaper. "It'll be a good luck charm!"

 

"A- a what?" Yuuri squeaked.

 

"Good luck charm!" Victor cheerily repeated. He showed Yuuri his phone, their picture staring back at him. Yuuri felt a ball of warmth settle in his stomach. "I'm definitely going to win gold now."

 

Yuuri ducked his head, feeling light-headed but helplessly gratified. He knew in the back of his mind that Victor would have won gold with or without him here - Victor wasn't called a living legend for nothing, after all - but it was nice to know that Yuuri could lift his spirits just as much as Victor did his. 

 

* * *

 

As expected, by the time the Rostelecom Cup came to a close, Victor had won gold and gathered Yuuri and Phichit, who had won bronze, for photos. Victor's hand was warm where it was splayed across his shoulder, and it was more than distracting, but Phichit discreetly pinched his side and he managed a small smile just before the pictures were taken. After a few exchanged words, and one last hug from Victor that stretched long enough for Yuuri to grow hot from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair, they went back to the hotel.

 

"I think he likes you," Phichit commented once they made it back to their room. He slung an arm around Yuuri's shoulders and ruffled his hair, stopping only to shoot Yuuri a confused look. Yuuri pressed his lips together and fought down his growing blush. "Yuuri, why do you... Oh my god," Phichit said, a wicked grin on his lips. "He _scented_ you. Yuuri! _Victor Nikiforov scented you._ "

 

"Phichit, _please_. I'm pretty sure it wasn't on purpose- "

 

"He couldn't keep his hands off of you, and you're saying this wasn't on purpose?"

 

"He has a strong scent." A white lie. A few seconds into their hug, Victor's scent had died down considerably, and it had left Yuuri strangely empty until after the competition where he'd scented him while giving him a bear hug. Yuuri's mind had short-circuited then, too focused on the fact that Victor's scent was on his skin and clothes and everywhere, suddenly, to think about anything else. 

 

"You don't see me smelling like Victor," Phichit retorted, snapping Yuuri out of his thoughts. Phichit narrowed his eyes at him. "At least tell me you returned the favor."

 

Yuuri felt like he might combust. "No, I- I... " He dropped his face into his hands, mumbling, "I did."

 

Phichit crowed and cheered, fist pumping. He dragged Yuuri into an impromptu dance neither of them knew the steps to and laughed over Yuuri's protests and stumbles until they stopped, out of breath, and settled down on their respective beds. It was blissfully silent for a long moment, and Yuuri thought that Phichit may have passed out, but that was wishful thinking on his part.

 

"Best birthday present ever or what?"

 

Yuuri threw a pillow at him.

 

(It really was.)

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life hasn't been very kind, so finding the fluffy, happy tones of this fic was difficult. Sorry for the wait, but here's the next chapter!

_[Video sent]_

_You two are adorable #goals_

_Please tell me you didn't upload that._

_..._

_Phichit!_

_I didn't!_

_..._

_I may have sent it to Victor._

 

* * *

 

Victor spent days after the Rostelecom Cup with his Team Russia jacket always on him or, if he couldn't manage that, within arm's reach.

 

Yuri grimaced when he saw Victor stride into the rink with a dopey, lovesick grin. At this point, the red and white jacket was practically plastered to his body, and no one had the heart - or the patience, as it's been at least a week since the Rostelecom Cup - to tell him to wash it. "You're disgusting," Yuri said, blunt as ever. "If you like that Japanese Yuri so much, go live with him. Russia doesn't need you, anyway."

 

Victor patted his shoulder as he skated by, completely unaffected. "Isn't it a wonderful day today?" Victor sighed, dreamily - _dreamily._ Yuri gagged - skating to and fro. It hardly counted as practice. As it was, Victor was just making a fool out of himself.

 

"You're an idiot," Yuri said emphatically.

 

"But I'm _Yuuri's_ idiot," Victor retorted, chipper and not at all offended. In fact, he was floating in bliss because it was _true._ He was Yuuri's, had been scented no matter how faint it was in comparison to his own, and he reveled in it.

 

Yuri shuddered and clawed at his ears like he wanted to rip the words from out of his head. "Shut _up_ ," he groaned, shaking his head, blond hair whipping across his face. He turned around a skated off, muttering, "Stupid old man. God, I didn't need to hear that." After a solid minute of dark mumbling, he stabbed one of his toe picks into the ice and jabbed an indignant finger at Victor, who was skating- were those  _hearts?_ \- into the ice. "Yakov! How do you expect me to practice like this?"

 

"Ignore him," Yakov shouted back from where he was giving pointers to Mila. She had a hand pressed to her mouth, stifling her giggles to a degree, and if she wasn't already practicing, Yuri was sure she'd be taking photos of the entire spectacle. 

 

After a few days without her, Mila was back at the rink and newly presented as an alpha. It hadn't surprised anyone when she walked through the door with her scent noticeably different - heavy and warm with an undertone of spice. While the change was somewhat jarring for those who had to reacquaint themselves with Mila's scent and for the few omegas on the rink who had to adjust to her uncontrolled alpha scent, everything stayed the same. For the most part. Yuri, if given the chance, would say that Mila became six times more annoying than she had been before.

 

"I think it's cute," she said when Yuri leveled a dark glare at her. "Besides, Yuri, if I can skate with Victor like that, then you can too."

 

"I didn't say I couldn't skate," Yuri grumbled. As if to prove his point, he kicked off and circled half of the rink - the half that Victor wasn't carving hearts into - before landing a clean triple Salchow. He stuck out his tongue at Mila. "How do you like that, you old hag?"

 

Mila smiled at him, all sharp edges and dark shadows playing across her face. "I'll sick Victor on you, Yura."

 

"I'd like to see you _try_ , Baba."

 

"Yuri, Mila, stop arguing and leave each other alone," Yakov snapped, scowl already in place after enduring more than an hour's worth of Victor's mooning. A prominent vein was pulsing at his temple, and both Yuri and Mila wondered, briefly casting a glance at each other, if it would burst. "I don't need you two clawing at each other's throats on top of Victor acting like that."

 

"You should tell him to stop, then," Yuri scoffed, even though he knew Yakov had tried. Tried in vain. In fact, Yakov bringing up Victor's behavior only made it worse, and their coach had given up after the third time he had told Victor to focus on skating - to which Victor had driveled on about how  _Yuuri's skating is beautiful, Yakov - there's nothing like it. It's like he's making music with his body_ and the like.

After that, Victor was deemed a lost cause.

 

"Or," Mila cut in before Yakov could snap at them once more, "you could give that Japanese Yuri a call."

 

"That'll only make it worse," Yuri retorted, crossing his arms. "Victor has only been texting him so far, and look at how disgusting he's being. Calling that Japanese Yuuri would make him more annoying than he already is..." He trailed off, blinked, then looked over to Yakov. "Let's move him to a different rink instead."

 

"As if that'd solve anything," Yakov sighed, harsh and weary. He pressed a hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples. "Fine. I'll call that Japanese Yuri. Maybe he'll be able to at least talk sense into Victor. Do you know his number?"

 

Mila grinned. "Nope, but I _do_ know Victor's passcode."

 

Yakov considered her words for a moment, then, heavy with the weight of Victor's infatuation bearing down on his patience, said: "Fair enough. Go figure out that boy's number and give it to me. It's about time we get Vitya's head out of the clouds and his feet back on the rink." His gaze slid over to where Victor was skating, his steps and jumps unfamiliar but practiced. A new program, perhaps, even though it was only the beginning of the skating season. "As soon as possible." There was only so much of besotted Victor he could take, after all.

 

At that, Mila's grin turned devious. "I think I can do something even better than that, Yakov."

 

As Yakov watched her hurry off the ice, Yuri right on her heels, he had the feeling that he would come to regret this decision in the near future.

 

* * *

 

Near future, as it turned out, was five minutes and twenty-seven seconds later.

 

"Yuuri!" Victor exclaimed when Mila shoved his phone in his face. It was unlocked, but that thought was pushed aside for far more important things, like Yuuri on his screen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and _right there_.

 

He grabbed his phone and stared as Yuuri blinked blearily back at him, oblivious to the smug glance Mila sent over her shoulder to Yuri and Yakov. She turned back to Victor and patted his shoulders twice, whispering, "Have fun," before skating off.

 

"Ah - thanks," Victor replied a moment too late, distracted by the sight encased in his phone. Yuuri reached off-screen to grab his glasses, putting them on crooked in his sleep-haze, and Victor's fingers twitched with the urge to straighten them - or to run them through Yuuri's mussed hair, brush the errant bangs out of his eyes and cup his cheek.

 

The Rostelecom Cup seemed so far away, now, with Yuuri right before his eyes but out of his reach. He'd been eager, then, but careful with his touches all the same. Hugs and gentle brushes of their hands, his hand on Yuuri's shoulder as he pulled him close, and he successfully restrained himself up until the point where Yuuri had congratulated him with stars in his eyes and a piece of the sun in his smile. Victor had wrapped his arms around him, pressed his wrists to his clothes, brushed it across his bare arms, and relished the way his scent mixed together with Yuuri's like they belonged together.

 

(He'd worried when he realized what he did, wondered if the reason Yuuri was frozen stiff within his arms was because he was terrified, but then Victor felt firm arms press into his back, caught Yuuri's scent tickling his nose, and all the air in his lungs had left him in a rush.

 

Yuuri had scented him, faint and only on his jacket, but Yuuri scented him.

 

Victor had held him closer, hadn't wanted to let go, because he was Yuuri's just as much as Yuuri was his, now.)

 

"Victor," Yuuri mumbled as he rubbed sand out of his eyes, expression gentle. His lips were tilted in a slight half-smile. Like he was happy to see him even though he woke him in the dead of the night. "Victor, did you... Did you need something?"

 

Without a moment's hesitation, Victor took a screenshot. Then another. He cleared his throat, tried to string together words that slipped through his fingers in the face of Yuuri's sleepy gaze, but only managed to a breathless, "Hi."

 

Yuuri's smile turned warm. "Hello," he quietly replied. He was lying on his bed, cheek pressed to his pillow, eyes half-lidded but clear, and Victor found himself wanting to wake up to this every morning, to have Yuuri beside him and within arm's reach.

 

  
_I miss you_ , he suddenly wanted to say, and the thought startled him with the intensity of his longing. Yuuri was looking at him, though his eyelids drooped occasionally before blinking back up, and the familiar clench and twist of his chest associated with Yuuri came back full force. It was difficult to breathe with Yuuri looking like that - with Yuuri looking _at him_ like that, sleepy and content and lined with affection. He ached to have him in his arms again.

 

"I wanted to see you," Victor said without thinking, honest. He shifted, skated back a little, restless. "... I'm sorry I woke you up."

 

Yuuri blinked, eyes widening, and then he pressed his face deeper into the pillow, eyes trained away from Victor. "It's fine," he mumbled. In a quieter voice, he added, hesitantly, "I wanted to see you, too."

 

Clutching his phone tighter, unable to help it, Victor's lips pulled into a wide grin at the admission. "Yuuri!" he said, elated. He twirled around the ice, unbothered by the stares his rinkmates shot him. "I wish I could hug you. I'd never let you go."

 

"That- you won't be able to skate in the Grand Prix Finals if you do that," Yuuri stammered, flustered.

 

"We'll just have to switch over to pair skating, then," Victor said, sounding entirely too happy for someone who was suggesting a change in career. It was a minor one, in his opinion, especially if it meant that Victor would be able to have Yuuri beside him on and off the ice. He'd be getting the better end of the bargain.

 

Yakov yelled something, more than likely berating him for suggesting so outrageous, but Victor couldn't quite catch it when Yuuri retorted with a loud, "No!" Victor blinked, taken aback, and Yuuri seemed to curl in on himself after realizing his outburst. "I- I mean, you can't do that - not yet! If you want to, then that's- that's fine, but I... " He trailed off, looking embarrassed, but his eyes were startlingly clear when he continued, "I want to skate on the same ice as you - I want to skate against you. At least until after the Grand Prix Finals, please don't go."

 

Stunned speechless, Victor could only stare at Yuuri. It must have been for a while because Yuuri started stuttering apologies that went through one ear and out the other. "I won't," he managed to say, cutting Yuuri off. He smiled, soft around the edges but challenging all the same. "I'm not going to go easy on you, though - that's how I show my love."

 

Yuuri's eyes widened, and the relieved, breathless laugh he let out afterwards sparked a flame bright in Victor's heart.

 

* * *

 

"See," Mila said, smug. She glanced over to where Victor was on the rink, skating his routines deep into the ice, more focused than he'd been all week. "I told you it was a good idea."

 

Yuri clicked his tongue, looking appalled but approving. Yakov heaved a sigh and shook his head, but by the end of the day, he made sure that the Japanese Yuri's number was saved into his phone.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ to those who sent their well wishes. Things aren't good, but they aren't bad either, and I'm doing my best to stay positive! This chapter was split because it was getting too long. It's a bit late but just in time for Valentine's/Christophe's birthday!

_Would you like to sightsee before the GPF?_

_It's close to where I lived, so I can show you around_

_Only if you want to!_

  
_I'd love to ( ´_ _♡_ _` )_  


 

* * *

 

When they finally touched down at Fukuoka Airport, Victor marched out of the plane with all the regality that came with being a living legend. Yakov, exasperated after spending the trip over listening to Victor's babble, allowed him to lead the way if only to distance himself from the pent-up energy sparking like firework with every flick of his student's searching gaze. Bringing up the rear were Georgi, Mila and Yuri, who spoke between each other underneath the bustle of the airport. Victor would catch snippets of their conversation whenever they turned a quiet corner but listening in on them wasn't what was on his mind.

 

He tilted his head back, slight enough to be inconspicuous, and breathed in deep. It was impossible, and Victor was probably imagining it, but he could make out faint wisps of Yuuri's scent like an undercurrent beneath the flowing mix of scents of the other travelers that were passing through. It was a given that scents never stuck around public areas for long, being buried by the fresh scent of new people as they were, and Yuuri, who had passed by at _least_ five hours earlier, shouldn't even have a scent lingering here for Victor could catch. This reminded him, almost, of the hotel for the Rostelecom Cup. 

 

Pulling out his phone, Victor sent a quick, _Here!_ , to Yuuri and tacked on a smiling emoticon for good measure. Whatever it was that was making this happen, Victor wouldn't question it. If anything, it was helpful now in a foreign country. He was certain that following Yuuri's scent would lead them out of the airport much faster than the (also helpful) signs in English.

 

He wondered if he could follow Yuuri's scent until he found the person himself; it was a tempting thought, something Victor wouldn't mind testing out especially since he'd craved to touch Yuuri somehow these past few days - still did even now, but he couldn't. Yuuri wasn't even in Fukuoka, was a little more than an hour away in his hometown with his family, and Victor could only wait until he was back in Fukuoka to satisfy the growing part of him that wanted Yuuri close.

 

"Stop daydreaming already," Yuri snarked, inserting a few choice adjectives to the grumpy _you old geezer_ that followed. Mila slapped him on the shoulder in what was supposed to be a reprimand, but her other hand was stifling her giggles. " _Ow_. What was that for, Mila?"

 

"You're ruining his moment," Mila hissed back at him from behind her hand. She jutted her chin over to Victor and glanced back at Yuri, an eyebrow raised. "Can't you see that he's neck-deep in excitement?"

 

"No," Yuri deadpanned. "All I can see is him glancing everywhere without actually _getting_ anywhere. Yakov, get us out of here!"

 

"I _am_ getting us out of here," Victor interjected, sounding petulant and hurt. "Yuuri's scent wouldn't lie to me - look! Baggage claim. Go find your stuff, Yura." 

 

Yuri gave him a disbelieving stare when Victor turned to grin at him, heart-smile and all. "You're impossible," he said before he stalked off to find his suitcase. Mila winked at Victor as she followed close behind. Georgi, who had only packed a single carry-on, stepped beside him with a wistful look in his eyes. He wasn't participating in the GPF this year, not after a bad break during the off-season resulted in a nasty sprain in his ankle. He had sulked for hours afterwards, both about his injury and his latest ex-girlfriend - _Yelena_ , he'd moan in grief while clutching his ankle;  _solnyshko_ , he'd more often than not follow up with, this time closer to tears - but he was looking brighter, now, after a few weeks to heal.

 

"Did you fall in love without me there to see it?" he asked, sounding nothing more than curious about it. Victor tensed, if only because- _love_  and _Yuuri_ and _oh-_  


"Still falling," Victor said, tasting the words. He smiled at the few people who passed by and recognized them, but his mind wasn't much into it. _Oh_ , he couldn't stop thinking, and he felt a surge of warmth fill him from the tips of his toes and fingers to the roots of his hair. _Oh_. "I don't think I'll ever stop falling."

 

Victor's fingers twitched. All of a sudden, the urge to have Yuuri in his arms overcame him. It didn't help that his lingering scent curled around him and enticed the alpha he kept under lock and key to claw at the bars of its cage. The beginnings of a displeased whine reverberated in his chest, quiet, but Victor silenced it as soon as it came. He flicked his hair out of his eyes and focused on happier thoughts - like Yuuri. Yuuri and his comforting scent. Yuuri and his smiles, the hesitant ones, the bright ones, the sleepy ones with uninhibited adoration. Yuuri and the way it felt to have his scent sewn into his clothes, to have _Victor's_ scent on his.

 

Yuuri and how he wasn't with him.

 

His phone vibrated, jerking him out of his thoughts before he could lose himself once more. He recognized the faint smell of his scent hanging about him, and it was clear that Georgi could make it out as well going by the glances he sent Victor, but he pushed it all to the back of his mind when he saw that it was Yuuri who messaged him.

 

  
_I'll see you tomorrow then?_  he asked, like Victor would deny meeting up with Yuuri when he only ever had the chance to see him once every blue moon. It was enough to satiate the yearning alpha in his chest, the knowledge that Victor would see Yuuri soon, enough to calm his rankled nerves and quell the twist and clench of his heart tearing itself apart by the seams with want.

 

  
_Of course_ , Victor replied. A smile tugged at his lips. _It's a promise_.

 

"I can see it in your eyes," Georgi said, and Victor looked over at him, confused. Georgi gave him a once-over, settled on searching his eyes for whatever flicker or shadow or gleam that gave _it_ away, and nodded in satisfaction when he found it. He set a hand on his shoulder, squeezed, and Victor felt the faintest itch of discomfort under Georgi's stare. "For your sake, I hope you don't stop falling either. Mila told me a little about him - a skater, she said. You know we have hearts of glass, Victor, but the only people who can shatter it so completely are other skaters." His eyes turned watery, distant. He let go and whirled around, pressing a hand to his face. "Oh, _Yelena_!"

 

Victor watched, bewildered, as Georgi walked away with a wailed, " _My solnyshko!_ "

 

"Is he going off about his ex again?" Mila asked from behind Victor, and he tensed in surprise before throwing a glance over his shoulder. "He really needs to let go of her. I saw her Instagram post a few days ago. Apparently, she's doing a long-distance relationship with some hockey player from America." She sent a sly look over to Victor. "Almost like you and that Japanese Yuri."

 

"Me and Yuuri aren't in a relationship," Victor pointed out. At Mila's shrug, he grinned, cheeky. "Not yet, at least."

 

"When, then?"

 

Victor pressed a finger to his smiling lips. "Soon."

 

"Soon, what?" Yuri asked, coming up to them with his suitcase in tow. Yakov was with Georgi, trying to talk him out of his moment of grief.

 

Mila and Victor shared a look before shooting twin sunny smiles at him. "Nothing," they chorused.

 

* * *

 

The next day came, quiet and cool, and the first thing Victor thought of when he woke on the break of dawn was _Yuuri_. His scent had flooded his room overnight, light and pleasant, the second most wonderful thing to wake up to only after being able to wake up to the person himself beside him. Victor sighed and buried his face into his pillow - which, much to his pleasure, also smelled of Yuuri - and basked in his scent. He still had a few hours before he had to get up. Letting himself daydream under the blanket of Yuuri's scent was a good way to pass time.

 

What would it be like, he wondered, to wake up with Yuuri in arm's reach? He peeked an eye open, reached out, and stared at the hand so close to his face. It'd be something like a dream, he thought, flexing his fingers and marveling at how _easy_ it would be to tuck Yuuri closer and smother him in his scent, to brush his bangs out of his face and press his lips to his forehead or nose or cheeks or lips, to be able to stare, unabashed, and think _Mine_.

 

  
_Did you fall in love without me there to see it?_  Georgi had asked, and Victor had, unthinkingly, confirmed it. Without hesitation. Without a lick of uncertainty. 

 

Turning over onto his back, Victor stared at the ceiling. It wasn't anything like his declaration to Yakov a few weeks earlier where he had told him he'd fallen in love; then, it had been an observation, a fact, like - _oh, I'm falling for Yuuri_ \- and nothing more. Now, it's a realization. He finally put the pieces together, connected the dots, solved the equation. He wanted to be with Yuuri. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to as close as possible, not countries away. He wanted because he was _falling in love_ with Yuuri.

 

Restless now in the light of his revelations, Victor grabbed his phone from off the small drawer beside his bed and opened up his messages with Yuuri. He thumbed in a message, squinting against the bright light of his phone, and didn't allow himself to hesitate before sending off the simple _Are you awake?_ to Yuuri. He stared for minutes afterwards, as if willing a message to come, and when no reply came by the time his eyes watered, Victor made to put it away until a telling vibration had him yanking his phone back.

 

  
_I am_.

 

Victor pressed his lips together, glanced over at the window where the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. It'd be early if they started their sight-seeing now since Yuuri must have gotten back late last night for Victor not to have noticed his scent until now, and Victor didn't want to tire him out a day before the competition either... _Can I come over?_ _(・_ _♡_ _・)_  


There was a long pause after that, and Victor worried if he overstepped a line. Perhaps, he thought, Yuuri wasn't that comfortable around him yet. Yuuri had experienced a particularly unpleasant incident with a difficult alpha, and even though he didn't go around parading his scent or gender Victor was an alpha, too.

 

He was about to tell Yuuri that they could meet up later when Yuuri sent back _Okay_. Victor buried his smile into his pillow. Okay. _Okay_. Yuuri was comfortable around him - might _like him,_ even - and he said _Okay_. 

 

Victor scrambled off the bed, sheets tangled with his feet, and he nearly fell on his face as he tugged on a comfortable shirt and some loose sweats. _I'll come over right now._  


  
_Now?_  Yuuri immediately texted back as Victor slipped out of his hotel room and into the hall. He breathed in Yuuri's scent, let it pull him towards Yuuri himself, and followed. _I'm not even ready yet!_  


  
_That's fine!_ Victor looked at it, felt his steps falter, and quickly added: _I want to see you_.

 

When Yuuri replied with _I want to see you, too_ after a moment of hesitation, Victor swore the world became ten times brighter. He followed Yuuri's scent down the other end of the hall and, as luck would have it, Yuuri's room was only on the opposite end of his floor. Reigning in his excitement, Victor carefully knocked on the door and waited with bated breath.

 

He heard the knob turn, then the click of the door as it creaked open, and Yuuri looked up at him with sleep-tousled hair and crooked glasses and the most hesitant smile Victor's ever seen him wear. "... Hi, Victor."

 

"Hi," Victor said. He stepped inside Yuuri's hotel room when he held the door a little wider and stepped aside, but when the door shut, Victor did nothing but stare at Yuuri. His fingers itched to reach out for him when Yuuri started to fluster under his gaze, and Victor, because he was a weak man when it came to Yuuri, couldn't fight back the words that he'd been wanting to ask since the Rostelecom Cup. "Can I hug you?"

 

Yuuri started, surprised. "I- huh? I'm not- I'm not sure what you...?"

 

Victor held out his arms, waiting - hoping, really, that Yuuri would let him do this much - and asked again, softer. "Can I hug you?" 

 

Yuuri shifted and his gaze slid away from Victor's. In the gentle light of the bedside lamp, he could make out the furious flush in Yuuri's ears and cheeks, and Victor could feel heat creeping up his neck in response. "You don't- " Yuuri started, mumbling in embarrassment. "You don't have to ask."

 

Stunned into silence, Victor could only watch as Yuuri stepped closer and closer and _closer_ until he was standing right in his arms. He looked up at Victor, a small smile on his lips, then slowly wrapped his arms around him and leaned into his chest. There was a moment where Victor couldn't think, didn't dare breathe and break this moment, because this was what he wanted ever since they last saw each other. Endless warmth and comfort and _please don't go_ , and now he had it.

 

Holding back the tremble in his body, Victor circled his arms around Yuuri and pulled him flush against him, buried his nose into his hair, and let himself drown in the warmth - in the _love_ overflowing within him.

 

  
_I'd never let you go_ , Victor had told Yuuri just days ago. Here, now, with the feeling of Yuuri wrapped in his arms and Victor wrapped in his, he wished he never had to.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been finding it hard to concentrate on writing lately but (re)reading comments always gets me in the mood to write since I, too, also want more fluff.

There was something immensely satisfying, Victor learned, about watching Yuuri eat.

 

After spending about an hour in Yuuri's room, both of them weighted with vestiges of sleep but comfortable and content, Victor had been tempted - sorely, unfathomably tempted - to drag Yuuri under the covers, tuck him close to his chest, and get them both proper rest, but he had refrained. Instead, he'd settled on sitting next to Yuuri in a separate armchair as they spoke, willed the itch under his skin away because _why_ was Yuuri so far from him after they'd just shared the same space, and soothed the desperate part of him that wanted to reach out and brush away wayward bangs from Yuuri's face by doing exactly that.

 

Yuuri had started, words breaking off into stammers then into silence, and stared at Victor with too many emotions flashing across his eyes. His fingers had lingered, skimmed across the frame of his crooked glasses and brushed his cheek, and Victor had settled back in his seat, just as surprised but sated, now, and Yuuri had picked up the conversation from where he'd left off, stuttering occasionally and shooting Victor quick looks. This continued until about ten minutes ago when he suggested that they go out and eat breakfast.

 

Sitting across from Yuuri, breakfast between them, Victor marveled at how something bubbled and fizzled in his gut at the sight of Yuuri eating. It was strange, unfamiliar, but not _bad_ \- just different. He felt delighted for reasons he couldn't understand.

 

"Here," he said, passing another pancake over onto Yuuri's already stacked plate. Yuuri blinked up at him, then at Victor's nearly untouched plate, and opened his mouth to protest before Victor cut him off with a gentle, "It's fine. I'm not that hungry, and we shouldn't let the food go to waste, right?"

 

It wasn't a lie, at least. Victor couldn't bring himself to feel hungry when he was already stuffed full with utter adoration for the man across from him. Unable to help himself, he tapped Yuuri's foot with his, feather-light, and smiled when he jumped and flushed.

 

"Victor," Yuuri said, trying for stern but coming off as more of a whine. He half-heartedly pressed his foot against Victor's, and the blush climbing up his neck seeped into his ears. "The competition is tomorrow. I can't - this is too much. You already gave me your toast, and your eggs, and any more will make me sick if I skate."

 

A valid point. Victor wanted Yuuri at his best for the GPF, but... "I like watching you eat."

 

Yuuri ducked his head before Victor could get a good look on how much the pink in his cheeks intensified, and he tilted his head to the side, enthralled beyond measure at how red Yuuri could get. Yuuri licked his lips and captured his bottom lip between his teeth, and Victor's eyes couldn't seem to decide on what they wanted to focus on more. "You can't just _say_ that," Yuuri mumbled. He looked uncomfortable, and Victor fumbled with his utensils and stole a piece of Yuuri's bacon, offering a small smile when he glanced up at him.

 

"I promise I'll finish the rest of my food," Victor said, and he punctuated it with an exaggerated bite of his pancake, syrup smearing his upper lip. He was rewarded with a huff of quiet laughter from Yuuri, and his lungs felt too small, suddenly, when his heart was expanding so wide. "In exchange, you'll have to show me the best Fukuoka has to offer for tourists like me."

 

Yuuri smiled at him and responded with, "I was going to do that anyway," but he no longer looked uncomfortable under Victor's gaze - he even indulged him once, when Victor lifted a piece of bacon to his lips as an apology for taking his and ate it with averted eyes and a furious blush. After that, Yuuri stared hard at his plate, looking as though he wanted his food to spontaneously combust right then and there. Before Victor could ask him what was wrong, Yuuri stabbed a forkful of eggs and shoved it right in Victor's face, just missing his nose - and this was fine. Great, even. Amazing, really, because this was everything Victor hadn't known he ever wanted before Yuuri.

 

"Apology accepted," Yuuri squeaked, tight and quiet and a pitch too high. His hand was shaking.

 

Victor stared and, with his heart ten sizes too big for his chest, ate the offered eggs with the widest grin he could ever remember on his lips. Yuuri watched him from across the table, embarrassed but pleased, and it brought with it a rush of satisfaction when Yuuri smiled in the end, expression tender, and said, "You never stop surprising me."

 

It was too much too soon in the morning, this overwhelming affection, and Victor felt three language's worth of vocabulary slip through his fingers. Yuuri didn't notice his struggle for words - or maybe he had - and continued without waiting for him to speak, quiet and wondering.

 

"That time, too, at Skate Canada," he said, pushing pieces of scrambled eggs around his plate. He never kept his eyes on Victor too long, glanced up after moments of staring down at his plate. "You surprised me. I was almost positive you didn't notice me. You slept in like you usually do and came out just before they called your name, and by then I was already in the holding room. There was no way you could have seen me."

 

  
_Oh_ , Victor thought, distant. For how much Victor didn't notice Yuuri, it seemed Yuuri himself was startlingly sensitive to Victor's presence. "I didn't - notice you, I mean." Victor had come to the rink just in time to walk straight from the entrance of the stadium onto the ice to skate his short program. He hadn't paid attention to the scores of the skaters before him, either. He didn't think to check, not when everyone and Makkachin knew he would get first, like the outcome of competitions was something certain.

 

"Right?" Yuuri said, smiling. "Celestino didn't even notice I left, but I can't blame him. I... It's not like that was the first time I had to find somewhere I could- somewhere quiet." He put his fork down and rubbed at his wrist, smile faltering as the memory flickered to life in his mind's eye, and reached up to press a hand to his neck. "The alphas I know, the ones around me, they don't - they've never done something like that to me or anyone else. I knew I should have called out or fought back, but I couldn't bring myself to because I was worried. This was a rink worker who knew I was a skater - what if he broke something to keep me quiet? My feet, my legs? In the middle of the competition?"

 

Victor felt his jaw tighten. "I'm glad I found you when I did," he said, because it was true.

 

Yuuri's smiled turned a notch brighter. "I am, too." He paused, smile aimed at Victor. "I told you earlier that I- that I've always wanted to skate on the same ice as you. More than anything, I was worried that I might not get the chance to do that anymore if that alpha decided to break something, but then you came and now I know that you'll be waiting for me on the ice. It doesn't feel so impossible anymore."

 

"I'll always wait for you," Victor said, tongue-tied in face of Yuuri's honesty. He wanted to gather Yuuri in his arms again and assure him that he'll never stop waiting, but Yuuri just looked at him with something so soundlessly overjoyed and fond, and Victor knew he didn't have to.

 

"I know," Yuuri said. "I'll try not to make you wait too long."

 

* * *

 

Hours into their adventure around Fukuoka, Victor slipped his hand into Yuuri's and interlocked their fingers as Yuuri talked about how the streets have changed since he last been to Fukuoka. He must have startled him since Yuuri's words stumbled out of his mouth, jumbled and a mess of syllables. He almost tripped over his feet, too, if Victor hadn't kept him steady.

 

"Wh- what?" Yuuri managed to say, eyes wide and glued onto their clasped hands.

 

"Should I let go?" Victor asked instead, He hoped he didn't have to. Victor wasn't a stranger to the cold, but he preferred Yuuri's warmth to the winter chill.

 

Yuuri shook his head. "No, that's not- I just- " He clamped his eyes shut and tightened his grip on Victor's hand. "Don't let go. It's fine."

 

Squeezing Yuuri's hand as a show of his gratitude, Victor let a small smile settle on his lips. If he pulled Yuuri's hand a bit and tugged the sleeves of their coats up just an inch or two, he could press their scent glands together. It was a nice thought - maybe something he could do later, when the things he did with Yuuri felt less like a milestone or incredible discovery and more second-nature - but as it was, all Victor did was swing their hands between them, content with having this small connection to Yuuri. 

 

As Yuuri picked up the conversation again, voice softer as he leaned against him, Victor wondered when he'd last felt this happy. Maybe it was when he got his first gold back in a competition he could barely remember, or maybe it was when he set his first world record for the highest free skate score. All of them were accomplishments that he were proud of, but nothing could compare to how he felt now.

 

He'd thought, all those years ago, once skating started to become less of a competition against other skaters and more of a competition against the Victor from last season, that he could only become better on his own. The motivation that carried him so far, the urge to win, had waned with the audience's surprise. Skating was an art, a performance, but what good was it if the people you were trying to captivate no longer cared about your efforts - _expected_ excellence and perfection from someone who was only human.

 

Except Victor wasn't a human, not anymore. He was Victor Nikiforov, skating legend.

 

(But Yuuri - he made him feel a little more human with each glimmer of affection in his gaze, filled in the void that had only grown larger with each medal, gave him something more than the feel of his blades carving a plea into the ice or a vice wound around his neck.)

 

(Yuuri gave him love - a chance _to_ love.)

 

"Oh," Yuuri said, glancing over at the small stall to their right. He was smiling, beautiful in the warm lights caressing his cheeks and dancing in his eyes, and Victor tucked away this memory into a corner of his heart. "I didn't think this would still be here."

 

They had passed by some food stalls earlier that afternoon, but most were empty and in the process of setting up for the evening customers so they hadn't stopped at any. Now, though, the streets were lined with stalls lighting up the night with food and echoing laughter.

 

Victor looked at the red and white banner running across the top of the stall, then at the pair in it grilling different skewers. "Do you know them?"

 

"They watch me skate, sometimes," Yuuri said, sounding somewhat embarrassed. He glanced over at the woman. "Her husband is a reporter that I know, but other than that, I don't know them all that well. I would always come to this stand whenever I was here, though. Morooka-san - the reporter - always cheered me on during my competitions, so I felt that I should- return the favor, I guess." He paused, then slowly looked over at Victor. "Do you want to try one?"

 

The skewers smelled delicious from here. Victor didn't hesitate when he answered with a quick, "Of course." This was a piece of Yuuri that he was willing to share with him, and Victor would never reject a chance to learn more about Yuuri.

 

Yuuri smiled and pulled away from Victor. "I'll go get some, then. Wait here."

 

As he waited off to the side of the street, away from the flow of people walking passed, Victor watched as Yuuri smiled his way through the woman's excited chatter and pointed to what he wanted. For people he claimed not to know that well, Yuuri seemed to be adored by the woman and liked enough by the man beside her - her brother, maybe? - who exchanged a few words with Yuuri. Enough, apparently, for them to refuse his money and send him off with a smile and a wave.

 

Yuuri looked sheepish, walking back up to him with a skewer in each hand. He handed Victor one. "Is chicken all right? I wasn't sure if you wanted to try anything unfamiliar with the competition tomorrow."

 

Nibbling a bit of it, pleased by the taste, Victor nodded. "It's fine," he assured, taking a bite. "Is this your favorite food?"

 

"No," Yuuri said, shifting his skewer to his other hand, "but I still like to eat it from time to time."

 

Silence fell as they ate, Victor committing each bite to memory. Half-way through, Yuuri brushed his fingers against Victor's hand in an unspoken question, giving him enough time to move away if he wanted. His eyes were trained ahead of them when Victor glanced at him in surprise.

 

"You don't have to ask," Victor said, voice gentle, as he took Yuuri's hand into his.

 

Yuuri's fingers were tight around his hand, shoulders tense, but his cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes glittering, and all Victor could do was hold Yuuri's hand just as tight in return.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I blink and time goes by like that! Here's a chapter for you all, and thank you for all your support.

Phichit was staring at him, eyes glowing with expectance, and Yuuri decided to face his inevitable fate. His friend had tagged along for the Grand Prix Finals with Celestino's OK, though he'd been warned not to distract Yuuri from the competition, going so far as to keep them from rooming with each other despite Phichit's protests.

 

"The _gossip,"_ he'd bemoaned, clutching his chest. The theatrics lasted for all of three minutes before he grabbed Yuuri by the shoulders and made him swear that he'd get all - "And I mean _all_ of them, Yuuri." - of the details later.

 

It looked like later meant right after practice. After stalling for as long as he could, ignoring Phichit's glittering eyes as he skated, Yuuri stepped off the ice to be greeted by Phichit's face inches from his own.

 

"Yuuri," he exclaimed, and Yuuri flinched back at the sheer volume of it before Phichit three his arms around his shoulders and dragged Yuuri with him. "I've been dying to know what happened yesterday -  _dying,"_ he stressed. "Ciao Ciao wouldn't let me out of his sight! He even  _stood outside the stall_ when I tried to use the restroom to get away."

 

Beside them, Celestino shot Phichit a long-suffering look and shook his head. He was used to Phichit by now to keep him on a tight leash if he wanted him to behave.

 

"Well, it- it wasn't _unreasonable,"_ Yuuri said, not quite sure what he could say to that. 

 

Phichit pouted. "It wasn't," he agreed, "but I wanted to know yesterday's details _yesterday."_  


Yuuri laughed, inching away from Phichit's insistent gaze, and tried to derail his friend with, "Nothing really happened."

 

"You were with Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri. You can't tell me that nothing happened. I won't believe it - I don't believe it." He frowned at him, more put off than anything else, and poked Yuuri's cheek. "Now, spill, or I'm going to find Victor myself. I'm sure he'd be happy to tell me what went on yesterday."

 

"Nothing went on," Yuuri retorted, hunching his shoulders. Pink dusted his cheeks. "We just went out to eat."

 

"Just went out to eat?" Phichit asked, teasing. His grin was knowing.

  
_"_ We talked about the competition a bit," he admitted. Victor was confident that Yuuri would do well, believed in him for some inexplicable reason, and Yuuri would be lying if he said he didn't feel warm all over because of it. "Other than that, we didn't do much."

 

Though he didn't seem quite satisfied with that, Phichit accepted what Yuuri offered and whipped out his phone, snapping a picture of the two of them - and part of Celestino in the middle of a sigh - and immediately went to upload it. Glancing at the photo, Yuuri saw Phichit type in _ready to cheer on my best friend @katsuki-y #GPF_ and smiled.

 

"Yuuri!"

 

All three of them paused, glancing back to see Victor walking towards them. Yuuri started, eyes going from Victor to his coach, who was red-faced and yelling something in Russian. Despite the fact that they've been talking to each other for weeks now with random messages in between practice, he and Victor never talked to each other during a competition. Phichit rammed an elbow into his side, and Yuuri snapped his attention back to Victor and his glittering eyes and beautiful smile.

 

"V-Victor!" Yuuri blurted when Phichit not-so-gently elbowed him again. He blinked rapidly when he caught the faintest wisps of Victor's scent, familiar and soothing and- that was it, wasn't it? The fact that Victor had become, somehow, familiar - close. It was startling just as much as it was incredible. "Good luck today. I- I can't wait."

 

Tilting his head, the lights dancing across his eyes in a way that made Yuuri's heart flip, Victor reached out and brushed away his bangs. Something like satisfaction made his smile curl more around the edges, and Yuuri couldn't help but think that Victor liked doing that - brushing his bangs away from his eyes - because that was probably the seventh time in the span of two days that he'd done it.

 

"I can't wait, either," Victor murmured, and his fingers lingered, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. Yuuri, suddenly, became aware of the fact that Phichit was right next to him. As if sensing the beginnings of his embarrassment, though, Victor wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for a hug. He was warm, and this close Yuuri could smell the sweat he'd built from practice on his skin.

 

"Victor, what- "

 

"Good luck hug!" Victor cheered, pressing even closer. Yuuri could feel the back of his neck burning in an embarrassingly pleasant way. "We're definitely going to win, now."

 

He could feel Phichit's eyes on him, and Yuuri was positive that they were going to have a long conversation about this, but for a moment Yuuri let himself not care. Wrapping his arms around Victor in return, smiling into his shirt at how nice it felt to hold and be held like this, Yuuri pressed his wrists to the fabric of his jacket and let his scent weave between the threads and settle there.

 

"Best day ever," Yuuri could hear Phichit whisper underneath his breath. It made Yuuri burrow closer to Victor, face burning.

 

Victor chuckled and grinned over at Phichit. "You're telling me," he said. One hand shifted up to his hair, and soon Victor's fingers were running through it. Yuuri could smell Victor's scent rising, scenting him wherever his hands roamed, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

 

"Victor!"

 

"Oh," Victor said, pulling away and glancing over his shoulder, "it looks like I have to go." He looked back at Yuuri. "I'll see you later, Yuuri."

 

It took half a moment too long for Yuuri to say, "Bye, Victor."

 

It only made Victor's smile grow, expression turning into something fond, before he walked away with an enthusiastic, "Yakov! Did you miss me that much?"

 

A second later, Phichit slung an arm around his shoulders. "Nothing happened, huh?" His other hand was swiping through newly acquired photos of him and Victor, and Yuuri sputtered at just how many he'd taken. "You two are great together - look! I don't think I've ever seen Victor smile like that before."

 

Curious, Yuuri looked at the photo. Victor was looking at Yuuri, eyes soft around the edges with something that looked like utter adoration, and his smile wasn't the million-watt smile he usually aimed at the cameras. It was just Victor's regular smile.

 

"He always smiles like that," Yuuri said, not sure what Phichit was talking about.

 

Phichit glanced between the photo and Yuuri, pocketed his phone, and said, "Only with you."

 

Caught off guard, Yuuri only ducked his head in response.

 

(If anyone bothered to look, they would see his lips pulled into a wide grin, the way his eyes shone, how deep in love he was with Victor Nikiforov. No one did, but, well, it wasn't that much of a secret anyway.)

 

* * *

 

When the time to compete came around, Yuuri's short program came to him in a way it hadn't before, pulled him and guided him, coaxed his heart out from where he hid it in his chest and laid it bare on the ice. He didn't think, didn't let that small part of his mind creep out of its corner, didn't give in to the nerves running rampant.

 

He clung to the emotions welling up in him and skated.

 

"Don't look away," he had told Victor the night before in a burst of confidence from how well their day out had gone. Yuuri had been beyond happy with how it went, how it felt like he and Victor had gotten closer, somehow, and he'd wanted Victor to know just how much it meant to him through his skating because he couldn't find the words. 

 

Victor had squeezed his hand, neither of them had let go despite the fact that they'd been standing in front of Victor's hotel room, and promised, "I won't."

 

Now, on the ice, Yuuri intended to show just how much Victor had helped him, how he still is with just small messages throughout his day, encouraging and honest.

 

"Katsuki Yuuri's theme this year is hope. Looking at his short program so far, you can really see how its evolved since Skate America - look at that! A quadruple salchow. This is the first time he's landed that in a competition and - oh, a triple axel! Beautiful. You can tell just how much he's put into this program."

 

Something giddy and proud grew in his chest, made it hard to breathe as he started his step sequence, and the smile that tugged his lips into an exhilarated grin was beyond his control. How long had it been since he felt like this during a competition? It felt like forever, looking back on it now, and Yuuri was glad that Victor found him when he did, that he encouraged him and believed in him.

 

He never skated with the intention of losing, but not once did he ever skate with the intention to win, either. All he had wanted was to be acknowledged by Victor, and when Victor readily gave him that, Yuuri just wanted to stand next to him - not just on the podium, but... maybe for as long as Victor would have him.

 

After a combination jump and combination spin, breathless and weightless and feeling both like he might collapse onto the ice and float off with how elated he was, Yuuri ended his short program reaching up to sky, a hand over his heart.

 

Panting, hair falling damp in his face, Yuuri stared up at the ceiling until the roar of the crowd jerked him into awareness. He dropped his arms and watched, wide-eyed, as the crowd cheered and tossed bouquets and stuffed toys onto the rink before mechanically bowing to the judges, then to the audience.

 

Skating towards the exit after picking up a stuffed animal that looked like Vicchan, clutching it tight to his chest, Yuuri stepped off the ice to Celestino's proud grin and firm clap on the back. He handed Yuuri his blade guards with a booming, "Wonderful, Yuuri!"

 

"Thank you," Yuuri said with a small smile. He reached down and put on the guards. "I don't- I don't really remember it, actually. I just... skated. Was it that good?"

 

"It was the best I've seen you skate in a long time," Celestino told him. He tilted his head towards the kiss and cry. "Let's go and see your score."

 

"Ah- alright."

 

Once they made it over to the kiss and cry, Yuuri numb all over and still catching his breath, he caught a flash of silver out of the corner of his eyes and looked over to see Victor beaming at him. He waved when he saw that Yuuri noticed him and made a small heart with his hands, eyes sparkling.

 

Feeling his cheeks flush, Yuuri waved back and hastily looked back to the monitor. Celestino settled a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

 

"And Katsuki Yuuri's score for the short program is... _102.12_! A new personal best!"

 

Eyes widening, breath catching in his throat, Yuuri stared at the monitor as Celestino ruffled his hair. A new personal best. Almost ten whole points higher than his previous best. Unconsciously, his eyes sought out Victor, and Yuuri found him looking at him like he was something made of miracles even though Victor's personal best - and current world record - was more than ten points above his.

 

Warmth settled in his stomach, liquid and comforting, and he grinned at Victor, sweaty and tired but delighted.

 

  
_Thank you_ , he wanted to say. _That one was for you._  


 

* * *

 

In the end, Victor stood in first after a captivating short program, followed by Christophe Giacometti, then Yuuri. Phichit jumped him the moment the competition ended, talking about his jumps - _You did it, Yuuri! You landed the salchow!_ \- to how high his PCS points were.

 

"You have to teach me how to skate like that," Phichit said, swiping through his own recordings of Yuuri's short program. "I knew you were a great skater, Yuuri, but you were holding out on me!"

 

"I'm honestly not sure what I did," Yuuri told him, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

After answering some questions from some reporters, they were on their way back to the hotel when heavy footsteps coming their way made Yuuri glance around his shoulder just in time to see Victor slam into him.

 

Taking a step back, saving them from toppling to the floor, Yuuri's arms hovered awkwardly just above Victor's back, lost. "Victor?"

 

"That was beautiful," Victor said into his shoulder. He tightened his hold on Yuuri for the briefest moment before stepping back, hands on his shoulders. "You were amazing, Yuuri! I knew you could do it!"

 

Yuuri relaxed. "Y-Yeah. You did." He paused, then: "Thank you, for believing in me."

 

"As if I would do anything less," Victor said, smiling at him in that way that never failed to make Yuuri feel loved. He took on of Yuuri's hands into his and brought it up to his lips, resting it there. "Tomorrow, will you watch me?"

 

"Of course I will," Yuuri replied without hesitation. He felt Victor's lips curl into a smile against his knuckles. "I'll always watch you for as long as you want me to."

 

Victor chuckled. "Even if I do the same thing over and over again? No surprises?"

 

"Even then," Yuuri promised.

 

Victor's eyes gleamed in the light, gentle and fascinating and overflowing with affection for him. Ducking down, he pressed his lips to the scent gland on Yuuri's wrist and nothing more.

 

"I'll hold you to that, then." 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time flies by. Sorry to all of you for the unplanned ~2 months of no update!

 

Victor could feel the small bump of Yuuri's scent gland against his lips when he woke up the next day, could taste his scent on his tongue, and rolled over to bury his face into the hotel pillow. Sleeping in sounded like the best idea, with Yuuri and Yuuri and Yuuri smothering his thoughts. The free skate wouldn't be until evening, so Victor had plenty of time left on his hands - not that time had ever stopped him from sleeping in until the last minute before.

 

With the knowledge that Yuuri would be out there skating, though, Victor didn't feel as inclined to wait until it was his turn to skate to show up. The way Yuuri skated yesterday was incredible - the pinnacle of _amazing_ followed by multiple exclamation points - and Victor wanted to not only see how his free skate would go, but also answer Yuuri's wonderful performance with one of his own.

 

A declaration, if Victor was being honest, because Yuuri's short program, as striking as it was, had been a tentative question: _Will this last?_

 

And Victor, who had watched as Yuuri skated around the rink, eyes searching for an answer, fervently wanted to answer _yes yes yes_ until Yuuri could at least believe in that if everything else went into doubt.

 

"Victor!" Victor jerked his head up at the following knocks. Light but insistent. "Victor, I know you're in there. Be a friend and let me in!"

 

Huffing a breath, Victor dropped his face back to his pillow and said, "Go away, Chris!"

 

"And let the love of your life feel spurned by your rejection?" Chris retorted, teasing. "Yuuri, it seems Victor's too busy with things much more important than us."

 

"C-Chris!" Victor threw the covers off of him at that, Yuuri's voice unmistakable to his ears, and scrambled over to the door. "It's fine! Victor usually sleeps in anyway, and I don't want to- "

 

The moment it was within his reach, Victor twisted the lock back and threw open the door with a harried, "Here! I'm here! The door's open, come in!"

 

On the other side, Yuuri blinked up at him in clear surprise, one hand gripping Chris' arm wrapped around his neck - and Victor had to bite down a grimace at that - but then the most captivating blush climbed up his cheeks and he dropped his eyes. Glancing at Victor, raising an eyebrow at the tense line of his jaw, then over at Yuuri, Chris pointed at Victor.

 

"I don't exactly mind the view, Victor - " Here, Yuuri let out a sound that seemed almost like a whimper. Chris' lips sharpened into a sly smile. " - but if you could spare Yuuri the embarrassment, or _excitement_ , put on a shirt."

 

Yuuri buried his face into his hands. " _Chris_."

 

Heat burned its way up the back of Victor's neck, but he covered it up with a laugh. Chris was well aware of his habit of dressing down whenever he went to sleep, but with Yuuri there, eyes flitting up at him every so often just to snap away, Victor couldn't help but feel hot under his gaze.

 

"I'll go do that," Victor said, holding the door wider as he stepped to the side. "Come on in, you two."

 

"N-no, that's fine! We can wait out here," Yuuri hurried to say, waving his hands and looking steadily more embarrassed as he went on. "We just wanted to invite you out for breakfast. Phichit also said he wouldn't mind coming, too."

 

Chris shrugged, a smile dancing on his lips as he regarded the two, but he didn't make a move to step in either.

 

"All right," Victor said, albeit slowly. He moved to shut the door. "I'll be out in a bit."

 

* * *

 

Breakfast with Yuuri, Chris, and Phichit went well, though both Chris and Phichit had no qualms in teasing their respective best friends with small (though not always subtle) remarks. There was a persistent flutter of giddiness in his stomach, familiar but only vaguely so. He hadn't felt this way in a long time - since he was competing in the junior division, probably, but the point where his passion waned had never been at a fixed moment to begin with. It was back now, and with a ferocity that was less incapacitating and more startling.

 

Because he'd remember _even then_ like a promise whenever he caught Yuuri's eyes, like a flickering light of a future he'd only dreamt of before, and felt the raw joy that'd made a home in his body beat its wings with more fervor.

 

Victor knew he was lonely - knew, but shoved that knowledge into a cage in the corner of his heart and locked it away with a smile on his lips. Over the years it had leaked out of its prison, ugly and heavy, until it even touched his skating in a way he wished wasn't so telling.

 

(Telling, he thought, yet no one had said a thing about it.)

 

(Yuuri probably didn't notice, either, but had promised him a future anyway. One where Victor wouldn't have to be so alone anymore, and that was fine - perfect, actually, because Victor couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so _happy_ at the thought of just being with someone.)

 

From across the table, Yuuri chewed his food in stubborn silence, though his serious facade slowly wore away into embarrassment as Phichit continued to tease him. Victor, parts wanting to comfort Yuuri and parts wanting to give in to the urge to be closer, pressed his ankle to Yuuri's and watched as he jumped, startled. His perpetual flush burned deeper, farther down his neck, and Victor wanted to capture his moment, frame it, keep it forever and collect more like it.

 

When Yuuri glanced up at him, looking hesitant and hopeful, Victor swallowed the sudden _come back with me, stay by my side and never leave because I don't know what I'll do until I see you again_.

 

There were phantom sensations dancing across his skin. Reminders of Yuuri's soft hair, the heat of his cheeks, his firm but gentle hands - and Victor wanted that. Everyday, if he could, if Yuuri would allow it. He didn't want to wait months on end to see Yuuri again like this, didn't want to see him second-hand through Phichit's videos or photos or through some obscure article he couldn't even understand.

 

He wanted this - he wanted Yuuri before him, real, within reach, willing to be pulled into the circle of Victor's arms. He wanted it like nothing else.

 

"You have that look in your eyes, Victor," Chris said from beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "I don't think I've seen it before on you."

 

"What look?" Victor asked.

 

"Like your in love," Chris murmured, a small smile on his lips. He glanced over a Yuuri, then back to Victor.

 

Victor pursed his lips. "Are you telling me that I don't look at him like that all the time?" he asked, part of him genuinely curious, the other part teasing. "I think you should have noticed earlier, Chris. I don't think I look at him any other way."

 

Eyes widening a fraction, Chris paused for half a second before he broke out into a hearty laugh, tugging Victor closer to his side while Yuuri and Phichit looked over at them in surprise. "He's a keeper," Chris said into his ear while Victor was drowning in Yuuri's clear brown eyes. His words would have flown over his head if not for the threat that followed, Nofierce and uncharacteristic with Chris' languid indifference. "Yuuri is a friend of mine, too, Victor - and so is Phichit. If you break his heart when he looks at you like _that_ , I don't think I'll be able to take your side."

 

Victor swallowed, dragged his eyes away from Yuuri, and promised, "I wouldn't dream of it."

 

"Good," Chris said. He glanced over at Yuuri and sent him a wink, making Yuuri fluster and snap his gaze away. "For the record," he said with a smirk, conspiratorial, "Yuuri looks at you the same way."

 

A blinding warmth washed over Victor, until he couldn't feel anything but helplessly overjoyed, until he couldn't see anything but Yuuri, until he couldn't be bothered to think about anything other than the fact that _Yuuri_ might look at Victor like he'd hung the stars.

 

"Oh," Victor managed to say. Yuuri stifled a sudden burst of laughter behind his hand as Phichit continued his tale about his most recent selfie-war with one of the skaters at their rink, and Victor couldn't even think about looking away from him, not now when he was shining so bright.

 

It was the first time he thought about the possibility of Yuuri loving him, too ensnared by his own overwhelming emotions, but now that it was in his head, he couldn't get it out - didn't _want_ to.

 

(Did Yuuri feel the same things as Victor, the all-encompassing warmth of affection, the gnawing need to be close - closer, sometimes - or the full-bodied contentment when they were together?

 

What would he say if Victor asked? What would he look like with his eyes wide and surprised, pink dusting his cheeks and ears, tempting Victor to press in close to feel the heat of his body?)

 

(What would Victor look like, if Yuuri said _yes_?)

 

"Probably like a fool," Chris said from beside him, taking a gulp of his drink, and Victor realized that he had been talking out loud. There was a telling flush to Yuuri's face, and if that wasn't enough then Phichit's laughter was enough to tell him that Yuuri had heard it too. Chris looked at Victor and appraised him, then amended: "More of a fool than you already look."

 

"I'd be his fool, though," Victor said, proud and unashamed by the fact that Yuuri clearly heard him. He remembered how smitten he'd been when Yuuri scented him, how delighted he'd been knowing that Yuuri had _marked_ him, and remnants of it fizzled pleasantly in his gut. "I already am."

 

Yuuri buried his face into his hands as Phichit burst out into another fit of laughter, nudging Yuuri's shoulder and saying _I told you so!_

 

Eyes glittering with mischief, Chris braced his forearms against the table and leaned forward. "What do you have to say to that, Yuuri?" he said, voice low and suggestive. "The figure skating world's second-most desirable skater - "

 

"I recall being _first_ \- "

 

" - second only to someone as delectable as myself - giving himself to you," Chris continued, steam-rolling passed Victor's interjection. Victor let him with a chuckle."You won't leave him hanging like that, will you?"

 

"Come on, Yuuri," Phichit said, smiling all the while. He ducked his head and whispered something to Yuuri that had him hunching his shoulders and mumbling something back.

 

Victor felt a twinge of guilt for putting Yuuri in such an uncomfortable situation. "It's fine. Yuuri doesn't need to say anything," he said, if only to get Yuuri to look up at him again instead of hiding away. "I didn't- "

 

"...appy."

 

Victor blinked, looked at Yuuri who still had his face in his hands.

 

"I'm so _happy_ ," Yuuri repeated, almost violently in his embarrassment. He brought his head up and stared right at Victor, eyes shining. "I'm glad that- that you want to be with me even though I don't- I'm not- not _good enough_ yet, to be with you, I mean." Yuuri paused, gaze dropping to the table for half a moment before meeting Victor's eyes once more. "I'll try, though! I'll do whatever I need to get to where you are no matter how long it'll take."

 

Swallowing down his heart, Victor looked at the determination burning in Yuuri's gaze, the set line of his lips, the way Yuur's eyes pleaded with him to understand - but Victor did and didn't all at once. "You don't need to," Victor heard himself say, too enraptured by Yuuri's eyes to do much else.

 

_You're already there._

* * *

 

There was something different about stepping onto the ice, this time around.

 

Victor skated a wide arc across the rink, waving at the applauding crowd, and grasped onto the serenity fluttering lazily in his chest. There was no uncertainty in his movements as he went into his free skate's starting position, but that had been something Victor no longer felt - not on the ice, at least, where the cumulation of his efforts were laid out for all to see. For the longest time, he hadn't felt _anything_ while skating.

 

Even so, there was a piece of hope in his heart now, one that Victor hoped could see the light of Yuuri's eyes.

 

_You're good enough._

His blades cut through the ice, carrying him through the first seamless steps of his program, and Victor neared the edge of the rink before he pushed himself up into a triple lutz triple loop combination. His heart thumped in his chest, heavy and insistent, wanting to be heard.

 

_You're good enough._

_More than good enough._

_All I could ever want._

 

Victor breathed out, let the emotions he'd always had a hard time grasping to spill out onto the ice, wanted, more than anything, for Yuuri to see him and understand in a way Victor's words fail to explain.

 

When the end of the program creeped closer, Victor thought, _This is for you_ , and pushed himself into a quad flip.

 

* * *

 

"That was amazing."

 

Victor chanced a glance over at Yuuri, saw him smiling at the cameras flashing in their faces, and couldn't bring himself to look away from how he glowed under the lights. Yuuri looked back at him from where he stood on the podium, face flushed with happiness.

 

" _You're_ amazing, Victor."

 

Victor would like to disagree, or, at least, tell Yuuri that he was - _is_ \- just as amazing, but then Yuuri turned fully to him with eyes sparkling with mirth and leaned in enough to wrap his arms around Victor. His heart stuttered to a stop, disbelief and surprise flooding through his veins as Yuuri's scent tickled his nose. Cameras flashed even brighter, closer, and Victor could swear he heard Chris say _finally_ like he'd been waiting for even longer than Victor had for this.

 

Victor blinked, tightened his grip around the bouquet but let go of his medal to set a hand on Yuuri's back. "Yuuri?"

 

"Thank you," Yuuri murmured. His arms around Victor pressing the both of them closer for a brief second before he pulled away. He was radiant as he smiled up at Victor. "For always being there for me, and for believing in me when I can't."

 

Victor, consumed by a heedless want and _Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri_ , blurted out, "Stay with me."

 

Yuuri started and moved to lean back from him, but that was the exact opposite of what Victor wanted. He grasped Yuuri by the forearm, loose enough for Yuuri to break out of his hold if he wanted to, but enough to keep him where he was.

 

"Victor," Yuuri started, glancing around them. They weren't exactly in the most private place for this, but Yuuri's eyes were so captivating, so _open,_ and Victor wanted to express a fraction of himself the way Yuuri's eyes laid bare his emotions and thoughts to Victor.

 

"Yuuri," Victor said, quiet but firm. Yuuri looked at him, dazzling and everything Victor could ever wish for. "You're perfect, and- no, don't look like that. You're amazing, Yuuri, and I'll say it over and over, as many times as I have to: You're fine the way you are. I _love_ you, and I don't think I can keep letting you go after each competition we have with each other, or each phone call, or video chat."

 

A blush was climbing up Yuuri's cheeks. "Victor, I- " he started, only to cut himself off, glancing away with a shadow of doubt that Victor needed to squash this instant.

 

"I want to fall asleep with you there," Victor continued, heedless to their surroundings. "I want to wake up with you there, too, and skate with you there. I want to introduce you to Makkachin and take her on walks together, and maybe we could skate a program together because I'd be honored to be able to skate beside you." He paused, saw that Yuuri was still avoiding his gaze, and felt his heart deflate. "But it's... it's fine, if you don't want that- "

 

"I _do_ ," Yuuri interjected, almost vehement, face flaming. His eyes met Victor's once more, and he said, voice trailing off at the end, "I want all of that, because I- I love you, too, Victor."

 

Victor's world shattered and pieced itself back together all with a single _I love you_ , and when Yuuri smiled up at him, abashed and beautiful, Victor flung himself at Yuuri and hugged him close.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Epilogue**

 

 

 

Nearly a year after the GPF, Victor watched as people ambled by, phone in hand and the latest message proclaiming, _Here!_

He tapped a finger to his elbow and buried his chin deeper into the warmth of his scarf, debating the merits of messaging, again, if everything was going all right when a voice cut through his thoughts.

 

"Victor!"

 

Heart thumping in his chest, Victor whirled around to see Yuuri waving at him, suitcase in hand and the sun in his smile, and everything in his world turned brighter, warmer, than it had in years. His feet carried him over to Yuuri, to the one person who felt like _home_ , and he called out:

 

"Yuuri!"

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it for _over and over_! Thank you to everyone who supported this fic whether through kudos, bookmarks, and/or comments. Also: I'm sorry for those who thought this fic may be longer. I honestly didn't have much endurance - or enough creativity - to extend it a couple of more chapters, but I hope this will do - I mean, happy endings are the best endings, right?
> 
> I had a great time writing this, but it was made even better with all of you there to join me for the ride. So once again: Thank you very much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Since I don't even know what I'm going to do, I'll be adding more tags as the story progresses. Other than that, thanks for reading!


End file.
